Over The Rainbow
by Equivamp
Summary: School's out for the summer and Bella's about to take a journey to the otherside of the rainbow. She knows her Lion, Scarecrow and Tinman in real life, but will her trip over the rainbow be enough to help her find true love?
1. The Carnival

**Author Note:** I've been agonizing over this one for weeks. Post it or don't post it. I have several unfinished fan-fics waiting worked on, why start another? But technically I'd already started it so why not post it? The argument raged in my head for days. Against my better judgment, because the most fun things are never in favor of good judgment, I decided to post, self control be damned.

**Disclaimer: **As always, I don't own the characters, or the worlds they live in, I just make them do what I tell them to. Credit goes to Stephanie Meyer and L. Frank Baum

**Summary: **Mostly Human/ Alternate Universe/ Twilight - Wizard of Oz crossover. Bella knows her Scarecrow, Tinman, and Lion in real life, but her trip over the rainbow will result in determining which is her true love.

* * *

"Bella?" My mom's voice carried up the stairs. "Bella, Angela and Jess are here!"

My first thought was, _huh?_ Then my body froze in surprise as the second thought struck me like a lightening bolt. _The carnival._

"I'll be right down!" I called out, leaping from my bed and dropping my novel to the floor.

I grabbed my sneakers from underneath the bed and began stuffing my feet into them, ignoring the shoelaces entirely. The first shoe went on without incident; the second shoe not so much. I wobbled, my arms flailed and then I went down cussing.

"Bells? What was that thump?" My dad called from the living room and I was glad no one was up here to see my lack of grace. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"Nothing!" I yelled, picking myself up off the floor.

I grabbed my windbreaker out of the closet and jammed it on. I shrugged a couple of times once it was on; it felt tight on me, but I put the sensation out of mind. I yanked a desk drawer open and grabbed my wallet. I glanced to make sure it had money inside before stuffing it in my back pocket. Then I dashed down the hall and stumbled down the stairs to see my best friends Jessica Stanley and Angela Webber waiting patiently.

Well, _Angela_ was waiting patiently, Jessica was tapping a toe infinitesimally while staring at the clock on the microwave. Angela face lit up with a friendly smile as I made my appearance. Jessica sighed theatrically, turned to face me and smirked. Smirked?

I glanced down quickly to make sure I was wearing pants.

"Oh, honey, don't go out like that!" My mother chastised, and I felt her light hands on my back and a tugging sensation from my jacket.

Apparently the back of my jacket had folded itself up and in as I slid it on, so only the top half of my torso had been covered. My mother pulled the jacket free and suddenly the jacket fit perfectly again.

"Wait a minute!" My mom grabbed my hand.

She yanked on my sleeves one at a time, untwisting them, and I heard Jessica s giggle at my expense. I blushed deeply and pulled away.

"Mom, I'm good," I mumbled.

"Okay, okay, have fun and don't stay out too late, okay?"

"Okay," I answered.

Every year, about mid July, Forks played host to a charity event hosted by the local police and fire departments. They brought in carnival rides, game booths, food vendors, and a stage, and set up right in the soccer field. In only three days the field would be transformed from soccer field to amusement park, it would stay that way for another three days, and then it would close down and disappear in another, you guessed it, three days.

I normally only went to this thing for the fireworks that they set off on opening night, and the bonfire they lit up on closing night(tonight was closing night). I didn't like the noise and I wasn't a big fan of heights or speed which meant most rides were off limits to me. I had no coordination so playing games was pretty much futile.

But Angela and Jess had begged me to go with them so I went. Parking was always a bitch, but Forks wasn't an especially big town so we could walk down to the fair with very little issues. Jess babbled over which rides she wanted to go on, Angela raved about which games she was going to play, and I insisted that I was here only on a spectatorial capacity.

Jess was a bit of a bitch. Not that she really meant to be one on purpose, but when you mix bimbo with vanity _and_ insensitivity, it will invariably yield bad results. But she was my friend and I loved her anyway. Angela's personality was the complete opposite. She was a very warmhearted person; soft-spoken, smart and perceptive.

We heard the noise of the carnival before we saw it.

As we walked on to the crowded field I once again marveled at how the place had been transformed. It seemed illogical that so much could be crammed into so small a space.

"Oooo," Jess squealed and pointed, "That's new! I wanna go on that!"

My jaw dropped open as I eyed the monstrosity she was pointing at.

A neon sign attached to the loading deck titled the ride as _The Freak Out_. It was shaped like a donut that was held parallel to the floor by giant spokes that slanted up and in to meet overhead at a pivot joint in the center. The donut -- the participants having been strapped into seats on the inside rim -- was revolving _and_ swinging. With each swing the contraption got higher and higher, until it hung completely vertical up and down; leaving the people tied inside upside down. At it's highest point, bright strobe lights began flickering, and I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sharp glare. Then there was a hiss, and as the machine swung back down, mist began to release, combined with the strobe lights the mist turned into a silver wall. I realized the vertical upside down stop must be the final thrill because the rides swinging began to get shorter and shorter until I t slowed to a halt and the seat belts clicked open.

I watched as the riders staggered off the ride and onto the deck, laughing and red faced. _Were they insane?_ Then I watched as they all bent down and began gathering items -- flip-flops, hats, purses -- off the deck. That's when I noticed the sign on the gate that read: **Please leave all loose personal effects (hats, sandals, wallets, change, etc.) on the platform to avoid injuries caused by falling items.**

I glared at Jessica's overly excited face and realized she wasn't kidding.

I glanced at Angela, who was eying the creation warily as she realized that if I wasn't going on the ride with Jess, then she was required to by default.

"I'll hold your things," I muttered. Jessica squealed again and dashed off to the ticket booth.

I was pleased to notice that my friends made it through their experiences without any vomit spillage. The same could not be said for everyone. There were moments throughout the evening when I heard calls for hoses and knew that someone had tossed their cookies and the operators needed their rides cleaned. Another reason why I refused to let myself be talk onto the amusements. _Germs. _I'm not a germaphobe, not by a long shot, but I have my limits. Not to mention, what if someone were to puke while I was on the ride?

I shuddered at the thought.

Jessica and Angela went on everything and I watched from the safety of solid ground, assured that I had the better deal. Once they had had their fill of adrenaline for the evening and we headed over to the track where the bonfire head been set up in the infield. We were once again passing by _The Freak Out,_ as it was inconveniently place near the entrance slash exit, and I had to strain my ears to hear my friends voices over the screaming.

"I'm thinking we should get some snacks for when we go over," Jessica announced, eyeing the concession stands.

My stomach lurched at the thought of stuffing down more junk food. While they were busy, I had allowed myself to overindulge.

"I think I'm good," I told her.

"Some fried dough sounds nice," Angela acquiesced.

Jessica head snapped around as something caught her eye. She glared and turned away quickly. I frowned, wondering what was wrong.

"Ugh, _so_ creepy," Jessica said with a shudder, nodding to the left.

I glanced over in the direction she had nodded.

Standing off in the shadows, a solitary figure leaned up against the chain link fence. The strobe lights on _The Freak Out_ began flickering again, sending enough light into the darkness to illuminate the pale face that was watching the crowd indifferently.

"Why'd he even come, the psycho?"

My head whipped back around to Jess.

"Jess," Angela said, "_don't_."

Jess rolled her eyes. "C'mon, I want to get some cotton candy."

She grabbed Angela's arm and tugged.

I suppose I was supposed to follow them, but I didn't.

The ride began hissing as it started to release the mist back into the air again, and again I turned to look at the guy in the shadows. Even though the strobe lights had stopped, now that I knew who it was, I could see him clear as day.

Edward Masen.

Edward Masen was a foster kid, who kept to himself and was likewise avoided by everyone. His approachability wasn't helped along by the fact that he was a raging Goth, but there was something else besides his looks. What kept people away wasn't so much about what was on the outside, as it was about the look in his eyes. There was distance in them, as if the world he saw wasn't the same as the one everyone else saw. It was a reminder that he had in fact seen some things that most adults haven't seen nor would they want too. Not that anyone knew what those things were. Nobody knew anything about Edward except that he was an orphan and had had a hard upbringing. Aside from that I would rather not think about the heinous rumors that have been spread about.

There was also his air of otherness. The way he moved; the grace of his walk, the precision of his steps… They were things that would normally allude to great confidence. But his head was usually bowed, his face trained toward his feet, as if he wanted nothing more to be swallowed up into the soggy dirt and disappear from sight. He couldn't have been doing well in school, no one ever saw him raise a hand in class or pick up a book. He was never invited anywhere, but he was _everywhere_, and he was always there alone.

I realized he was staring back at me right around the time I realized that I was staring at him. I gave him a timid smile. He shot me a glare. I considered walking away. Then I walked toward him.

His face relaxed from his glare and slid back into indifference. His green eyes looked out at me from under his heavily mascara-ed lashes and his dark lips twitched in what might have been a smile.

"Hi, Edward," I said.

He stared back at me with that haunting green gaze and I waited patiently for a response, willing myself to be brave enough to keep eye contact.

"Hello, Bella," he finally answered, his velvet voice so soft I could barely hear it over the sounds of the fair. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

I don't know what I expected him to say to me, but I didn't expect him to ask that. I thought about it; was I having fun?

"Not really," I answered. "Are you?"

"No," he answered.

"Then why are you here?" I asked.

"Why are _you_ here?" he parroted.

"Touché," I answered.

I looked down at my feet for a moment as a new thought came to me.

"Hey Edward?" I asked, looking back at his face.

His response this time was wordless; just a tilt of his head.

"Why don't you come with me, I mean us, to the bonfire, I mean…"

He looked a little surprised at what was probably the first invite he had ever received, but he recovered quickly. "I don't think your friends like me," he said, still speaking in that soft tone.

"I don't think anyone likes you." My hand slapped over my mouth and my eyes widened in horror. _I can't believe I said that to him!_ What the hell is wrong with me?

His reaction to my impulsive comment was to throw back his head and laugh. He reached a hand up and ran it through his unruly black hair.

"Oh!" Edward spoke between gasps, "You should see your face! You're beet red!" He took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"Not that you don't make an excellent point." Edward frowned.

"I didn't mean it like --"

"Doesn't matter." He cut me off. "Its true."

"Why won't you come?"

He was quiet for a minute and when he spoke next his words were so hushed that if I hadn't been looking at his lips I wouldn't have known he'd spoken at all.

"I don't like fire."

I shrugged but didn't press the issue.

"You know," he said suddenly, "If you had any kind of brains, you'd stay away from me."

"Let's make believe I'm brainless. Will you change your mind and come with us?"

"No, probably not."

"Bella!" Jess shrilled out.

I turned back around.

She looked annoyed; Angela look relieved.

Angela made a "come here" motion with her hands.

"Go," Edward told me; his voice was colored with something… resignation?

"Come with--" I began but was interrupted.

"No." Edward said firmly at the same time Jessica yelled, "Hurry the hell up!"

I gave Edward an apologetic last glance, but he didn't see it, his green eyes had focused themselves elsewhere, and I rejoined my friends at the gate.

"What were you doing talking to _him?_" Jessica asked, curling her lip with disgust.

"Just making pleasant conversation," I murmured.

"But _why?_" She asked.

I opened my mouth to respond but Angela got there first.

"I think its nice. No one ever talks to him."

"Yeah, Ang, there's a reason why nobody talks to him." Jess's rebuttal was sarcastic and for some reason it made me angry.

"Yeah, Jessica?" I snapped. "And why is that?"

Her mouth opened in surprise, but then abruptly shut again,

"No one really knows anything about him. It's all just rumor, he's never confirmed any of it. So he dresses in black, so he keeps to himself, so what? I'm sure he has a mind of his own, whether you want to acknowledge it or not."

Jessica still made no comment.

"I think its nice," Angela said again, breaking the tension. "I think he must get lonely…"

* * *

**AN continued: **It will be a few chapters before Bella crosses over because I want to make sure all my main players are granted propper introductions.

What do you think? Are you merely intrigued or is it fan-fricken-tastic? Am I going to hell for starting another fanfic when I already have so many open?

Click the review button and tell me what you think!

As always you can find teasers and updates for this and other fanfics at http(:)//equivampsnotebook(dot)blogspot(dot)com or click the link on my profile.

FYI: The carnival was inspired by an event that takes place in my town every summer. "The Freak Out" really exists and I'm proud to say I've never been on it.


	2. The Bonfire

When we arrived at the track, the fire was already lit, the smoke billowing upwards in the humid Washington air. People had already set up lawn chairs and blankets to watch it burn. There were a couple of arts and crafts tents set up further back from the audience and the fire.

"Oh, look!" Angela cried out, pointing at a tent.

Bold white lettering was painted on the side of the tent.

**Madame Mary Alice**

**Psychic Extraordinaire**

"A psychic, Angela?" Jessica snorted.

"What? Why not?" She asked.

Angela reached out and grabbed my hand.

"C'mon, Bella, let's get our future's read!"

Jessica laughed. "I'll find us some good seats while you two waste your money."

I allowed Angela to tow me over to the brightly colored tent.

Logically, I knew mostly like it was a hoax. If everybody who claimed to be a psychic actually was a psychic, there'd be a lot more lottery winners. But the possibility that this was the real deal, as unlikely as it was, lured me over. What would my future hold? A steamy love affair with Robert Pattinson? A full scholarship to Dartmouth University? The petty gratification of watching Jessica's sleazy boyfriend Mike Newton, slip on a banana peel and fall on his face?

Angela giggled with her excitement and reached her hand toward the tent flap. Before her fingers could reach the material, it flew open with a violent sounding swish.

In the threshold stood a tall, leggy, blonde wearing clothing that adhered to her body like it was painted on. Her hair flowed down her back in gentle curls, Forks' own local goddess. Her nostrils flared, her hazel eyes narrowed as she glared down her nose at the Angela and I, her perfect lips twisted into an unladylike grimace.

"Next!" A high pitched female voice hollered from inside the tent.

Rosalie growled, "What a crock of shit!"

We leapt backward to avoid being knocked over as she brushed by us as if we weren't even there. In Rosalie's world, we weren't.

"Ah," Angela sighed with an air of sarcasm. "The pressures of being a Hale."

I snorted. "What do you think her future holds?"

"I see a room…" Angela paused for dramatic effect and the added, "Hugh Hefner's there!"

I began to laugh but got interrupted as the high pitched voice yelled, "I _said_ next!"

_Madame Mary Alice is an impatient psychic_, I thought to myself.

Angela reopened the tent door and I began to follow, but again the psychic yelled. "No, no, no! One at a time!"

"You first," I mumbled backing out.

I turned my back to the tent and watched the fire burn. I looked for Jessica, but I couldn't see her from this vantage point. I did however see the unmistakable form of Rosalie, silhouetted against the flame, talking heatedly with a figure so tall and with hair so curly, it could only be her brother.

I wondered what they were arguing about, the Hale twins, Jasper and Rosalie never argued. Their parents were like mega-millionaires, the money in their trust funds rivaled whatever was being stashed away in Fort Knox, and had moved here a few years ago when their mother decided she wanted to live in a small town. They were the rulers of Forks High and they knew it. Rosalie preferred to pretend that she was living in her own little world where no one else existed. If you weren't important or pretty you weren't acknowledged. Jasper was as equally good looking as his sister, but his life philosophy was slightly different. In his world the "lesser beings" existed, but rather than ignore them, he preferred to spend his time crushing them. Together, they were an unstoppable force, like a tornado or a tsunami.

My eyes flicked around the track, noticing how many people showed up here. I knew most came from neighboring towns on the peninsula, because even on the rare sunny day I had never seen this many people come out of the wood work in Forks.

I jumped in surprise when a hand landed on my shoulder. I turned quickly, but it was just Angela who was wearing the strangest expression on her face. She looked… _dreamy_. Or high.

"Angela?" I asked.

"Next!" Madame Mary Alice yelled.

She was getting annoying.

"Oh, Bella," Angela breathed, "That was fantast--"

"I _said--_"

"I'm coming!" I shouted.

"Go find Jessica," I told her. "We can swap stories later."

I walked inside and paused to survey my surroundings.

It was pretty cliché. There were small folding tables lining the walls of the tent, and each table had a row of lit red candles, the flames of which flickered to closely to the tent walls for my comfort. In the center of the tent was a round table, close to the ground, with a black cloth drape over it. A huge crystal ball, about the size of a soccer ball, sat dead center on the table. On either side of the ball, there was a rose. The roses were positioned so that the blossom of one was toward the psychic, and the blossom of the other was toward me.

The psychic, Madame Mary Alice, was already seated at the table. She was a small woman… really small. She couldn't weigh more than ninety pounds soaking wet. Her face was hard to see, as she had wrapped a pink silk scarf around the bottom of her face, but I could see black hair sticking out from under it at odd angle. Her little brown eyes sparkled at me… or maybe it was just the glitter makeup. She was draped in loose pink cloth like she just rode a bedazzled camel across the desert.

"Please," she crooned, "take a seat." She gestured to the cushion across from her and about twenty gold bangles jingled on her bony wrist.

"Hi, I'm--"

"I know who you are. Do you?" Her high pitched voice softened, a huge contrast compared to the harsh tone she used when she was yelling for her next customer.

"Do I what?"

"Do you know who you are?"

"Um…"

She waved her hand indicating she wanted silence.

"What is it you seek this evening?"

"I want to know my future." I said.

She snorted. "Well, duh." She shook her head and mumbled something about "no imagination" and sighed.

"Alright, m'dear," she purred, stretching her slender arms forward so her hands rested, palms up, on either side of her giant crystal ball. "Take my hands."

I put my hands in hers, doing so carefully. It wasn't that I was afraid -- skeptical, yes; afraid, no -- but her hands looked so delicate on the table cloth… It was silly, but her looking frail, made me want to treat her as if she were.

"That's very good, now close your eyes while I look into the infinite. Then we can consult the ball… but we can't do these things without the infinite…"

I closed my eyes and tried no to laugh. She clearly took her job very seriously. But what I really wanted to ask was, _The __**infinite**__ what_?

"Okay, you can open your eyes now."

I opened them to see her lean closer to the ball and stare into it. I moved forward a little and stared too.

"Hmm… I see true love… and a great journey… three men and one is your destiny."

"A great journey?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Where am I going?"

"Vacation?" She asked.

Uh, no. "You mean you don't know?"

"Do you?"

Before I could form a response she said, "Hush child."

Child? She couldn't have been more than a few years older than me, if that. But I didn't argue.

"Mm-hmm… yes…" she mumbled to herself as she stared at the ball.

"What?"

"Do you have a dog?"

"No."

"Get one."

"What?"

But she didn't answer, instead she sat up and waved a hand at me.

"That's all," she said.

"That's it?"

"Yes. Ten, please." She held out her hand and rubbed her fingers together in the universal sign to pay up.

I pulled out my wallet and handed her the money. _You get what you pay for,_ I thought to myself. I couldn't exactly expect a Nostradamus worthy prophecy for the layout of my life for ten dollars, could I? Although I seriously question Angela's judgment if she thought Madame Mary Alice was fantastic.

After I ducked out of the tent, I headed back up to the track, and walked around looking for Jessica and Angela. I stumbled a couple of times as the rubber of my sneaker caught on the rubber of the track. I was sure my stumbling gave away my identity to anyone who saw me and that knowledge made my face burn. But it was dark and the light from the fire wasn't nearly enough to give away my red cheeks.

Deciding that Jessica wasn't the type to sit on the ground for any period of time, I headed over to the far side where the bleachers were located. I scanned the bleachers, but there were very few people sitting there, and none of them were who I was looking for.

I bit my lip, nervously. As a cop's daughter, I knew that being alone in a crowd of strangers at night wasn't something I wanted. Just as this thought crossed my mind I heard a groan from under the bleachers and the crackling of twigs. I yelped and jumped back, but curiosity kept my eyes straining into the darkness as a dark shape lifted off from the ground.

I heard a deep, throaty chuckle, as whoever it was walked out from under the seats.

"Afraid?" The voice was deep and smooth. "Irony isn't lost on me." He continued but his voice broke pitifully halfway through his sentence.

As he stepped toward me, it all became clear.

"Emmett?"

"Hey, Bella," he said.

My eyes focused on his face, his lips were streaked with something dark. Blood. Noticing my stare he reached up and wiped it away with a shirtsleeve.

"Emmett! What happened? Were you mugged?"

He snorted and again had to wipe his face as the gust of air pushed more blood out of his nose. My stomach rolled at the sight of it and I closed my eyes for a second to steady myself.

"Mugged? In _Forks_?"

"Right. But then…"

He nodded his head over my shoulder.

I turned to look, but there were to many people. A burst of raucous laughter burst out and then I understood. Jasper and his three sidekicks were laughing about something and now I could guess what.

Emmett stood beside me and cleaned the lenses of his crooked glasses on his non-bloodied shirtsleeve before slipping them back on.

"Yeah." He said confirming my suspicions.

"Emmett, why do you let them harass you?" I asked. "You could take them all." And it was true.

Emmett McCarty was no light weight, not physically anyway. He was as tall as Jasper, maybe taller, and he definitely had more muscle than any of the jocks in school. He was the only nerd on the planet who built better than Vin Diesel.

When Emmett didn't answer, I pressed forward.

"Emmett, why don't you hit back? Are you afraid?"

"No." His answer was petulant.

I laughed then immediately regretted it as he turned his face toward his feet.

"Hey," I said reaching out to put my hand on his arm, I felt his muscles stretch reflexively beneath my palm. "I didn't mean to laugh at you."

He looked down at my hand on his arm and shrugged.

"S'okay. Everyone laughs at me."

"Then back to our original conversation. Why. Don't. You. Fight Back?"

He met my gaze then. His cobalt colored eyes took on a glazed look behind the glasses, and I had a hunch he was trying not to cry. It was strange to see such a large young man wearing the expression of a child; it made me uneasy.

"Its not right… to hit. Mom said, never to hit."

This shut me up real fast and I was now looking at the ground.

Emmett came from a big family composed mostly of girls. He has three sisters, the oldest is away at college now, the remaining two are both younger. They were currently being raised by their father. Mrs. McCarty died in a car accident several years ago. They, Emmett's parents, were both born and raised here in Forks. So many people knew the family, grieved the loss... My dad had been in the station that night; to take the call, to handle the scene.

I remembered the funeral though. Seeing Mr. McCarty cry. Until that day I hadn't known a grown man _could_ cry. The oldest daughter had wrapped herself around him, looking for comfort he couldnt give. And the younger girls, clearly to young to understand why everybody was upset, were standing side by side, squished together by Emmett's tight embrace. He cried too, but his tight hold on his little sisters made it clear that he was taking up the responsibillity of looking out for them.

And then, so quietly that he might not have spoken at all, Emmett broke me out of my reverie. He said, "And… I'm afraid."

I looked at him.

He shrugged. "What if I fight back, but it only makes things worse?"

I sighed. "Try having a little courage." I told him. Then in an effort cheer him up I added, "Besides, we're seniors now! This is our last year, then you'll go off to an Ivy League school, and when you come back for the reunion, you will be better than all of us."

He cracked a smile. "Yeah," he agreed, "There is that."

I wondered if I should tell him that I thought he was already better than all of us, but decided against it. He'd probably think I was just saying to be nice and give him an ego boost, not to mention, even in my head the words sounded cheesy.

So instead I tugged him over to the lowest bench on the bleachers and we sat down together to watch the fire burn.


	3. The Norwegian Hillbilly

Emmett and I stayed together until the firemen yanked out the hoses and began putting out the fire. I wandered through the dispersing crowd looking for a Jessica and Angela, but couldn't find them.

I sighed. It looked like I'd be walking home alone.

I left the makeshift carnival grounds behind me and headed out to the street. I hadn't made it two steps when the clouds opened up. Raindrop the size of Volkswagens began falling.

_Great, I'm alone AND wet._

As I walked down the street, the back of my neck began to prickle. I shivered, but it wasn't from the fat raindrops rolling down my neck, although that was a contributing factor to me pulling my hood up. I glanced behind me, but didn't see anything. But I could _feel_ it. Something was following me. I glanced at the trees lining the sides of the road, only now they looked more ominous. What was hiding in the depths of the forest? Had something crept out, drawn by the chaos and smell of fast food, and seen me walking, alone and vulnerable? I picked up my pace but the feeling of being followed didn't disappear.

Then I saw it in front of me and I froze. My heartbeat stuttered as I realized it was a shadow… Which meant the monster in my vision was behind me, under the streetlight I had passed moments earlier.

I had never seen one anywhere but the movies, but the profile before me was unmistakable. Wolf. I stood frozen, numbed with fear, my breath coming in panicked gasps, my pulse thudding unbearably loud behind my ears. The animal must have been huge because the shadow was above and beyond gi-normous.

Then the shadow took a step away from me… which meant the animal stepped _toward_ me.

I did what any other frightened young girl with a wolf hunting her would do.

I screamed.

I ran.

I didn't look back.

My feet pounded the wet pavement in time with my racing heart, or so it seemed, but each time I passed under a streetlight the shadow would appear before me. I couldn't escape it. Fear heightened and confused my senses. Was that snarling I heard just behind me? Was that its footsteps getting closer is it prepared to end the game of cat and mouse? Could I smell the predator's rancid breath?

I tripped on a crack on the sidewalk. I went down. Hard. I cried in pain as I skinned my knees and whimpered in despair as I realized the chase was over. What a way to die. Only I could manage to get eaten by a giant wolf. I rolled over so I could watch my bizarre death come for me.

There it was.

We stared at each other and then relief and embarrassment bubbled in my chest causing me to laugh hysterically.

The animal in front of me had the profile of a wolf, sure, so my mistake was relatively understandable. However, it wasn't a wolf. It wasn't even big. It was a dog. A _small_ dog. A small dog with the shape of a wolf. Its short, thick fur was gold with a light scattering of black hairs on its back. It pointed ears twitched as it stared at me through tiny gold eyes. It cocked its head at the sound of my laughter and a pink tongue rolled out of its pointed muzzle.

It was laughing at me.

I was being laughed at by a fifteen pound dog.

It came closer to me, wagging its bushy tail and I could see something was off about its feet. They were too big, no, that wasn't right… There were too many toes. Four paws and each had… _six?_ Was that normal for a dog to have… twenty four toes?

"Hey, boy," I finally spoke reaching out a hand.

The ragged little thing yipped and without invitation he climbed into my lap. We both sat there, in the pouring rain trying to catch our breaths. The little mutant dog, trembled in my lap and I realized that the pitiful animal was cold… and thin. I could feel his ribs. The decision was made before I knew I made it. He was coming home with me.

I laughed again. Madame Mary Alice would be happy to know her advice was being followed. But then I frowned. Had she _known_?

I looked at the dog again and shook my head, too tired to figure it out.

With the little animal tucked safely under my arm, I made my way home.

* * *

"Isabella Swan!"

My eyes snapped open as my father bellowed up the stairs. Charlie never got angry, but now he sounded _pissed. _That was never a good sign.

"Get out of bed and get down here. Right. Now!"

I looked over at the space on my bed where the dog _had_ been. Then I looked at my door which was opened a crack. It looked like my guest of honor made himself known.

Slowly, I made myself downstairs. I knew my parents weren't going to be thrilled with my decision to bring Little-Wolf-Dog home, but this seemed like an overreaction.

The first thing I saw was my dad's fuchsia face. The second thing was my mom in the kitchen with an apprehensive look on her face. The third was the little dog, eating from a plate of scrambled eggs that were next to the fridge.

"Do you have something you'd like to tell us?" He hissed.

"Last night, I found a stray dog and decided to bring him home."

"Yes." Charlie snapped. "That might explain why there is dog pee on my jacket!"

Uh-oh.

I shot a glare at the dog who seemed to be oblivious to the chaos it was causing.

"Get rid of it!" My dad demanded.

This time the dog did look up from its plate of food. If I didn't know better, I'd say it looked _worried._

"Charlie," my mom finally spoke up. "Maybe it would be good for her to have a dog… Accidents happen."

My dad's mouth popped open. His eyes said it all: _Traitor._ But my mom didn't see the accusation in his eyes. She was eyeing the dog's hillbilly feet.

"Fine," he growled. "I want it potty trained. Fast."

I nodded quickly.

Charlie stomped out of the house.

I walked over to the little dog and knelt down.

"You _peed_ on his jacket?" I asked.

The little dog cocked his head, wagged his tail, and returned his face to the food.

"When you're done with breakfast," Renee began speaking while setting my plate of eggs on the table, "take that dog over to the vet. Make sure it hasn't got rabies or something." She looked back at the dog and her eyes bulged out of her head. "Is that normal?" She gasped.

I looked over and my eyes widened too. The little dog was on its hind legs, leaning on its forepaws as its nose stretched for the smell of food. That wasn't strange. What was strange was how -- where the stove and cabinets met and created a ninety degree angle -- the dog's right leg was extended from his shoulder out to the side, and braced against the cabinets, while the left leg braced out in front of him against the oven. His legs creating a ninety degree angle all on there own.

Something else to ask the vet about.

* * *

I walked into the animal clinic with the little dog under my arm, but I froze when I saw who was sitting behind the receptionist's desk. The familiar blond hair. The harsh hazel eyes. The perfectly manicured nails tapping against the counter.

She looked up at me when I entered. Her eyes slowly passed up and down my body and, although I knew it was stupid, I couldn't help but feel self conscious. She smiled softly, no doubt fully aware of how she was making me feel. Her eyes flicked down and I knew I'd been judged and found unworthy of her attention.

I took a deep breath and walked up to the desk.

"Rosalie? Is Dr. Platt available?"

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked, smirking without looking at me.

It was her world and I wasn't really here. I rolled my eyes knowing she wouldn't see.

"No, but--"

"This isn't a hair salon. We don't take walk ins unless its an emergency. Is this an emergency?" She asked. Her voice may have been nonchalant, but the growing grin on her face told me that she knew exactly what she was doing.

"No, but --"

"Maybe you should come back when you have an appointment." She said sweetly.

The little dog in my arms let out a growl.

Her head jerked up at the sound and she eyed him.

She chuckled. "What the hell is that?"

I squeezed him tightly, feeling oddly protective of the warm body in my arms.

"Its called a dog," I said, speaking very slowly as if she had a limited IQ. "I would think working in a vet's office, you would have figured that out. Maybe you're in the wrong line of work."

The dog snapped his jaws with what he thought was a menacing click.

Rosalie's eyes narrowed and I couldn't tell which on of us she was angriest with.

"_It_ should be muzzle. It looks feral. And diseased."

I could see what she meant, about the feral and diseased comment… Right now his fur was raised, revealing how thin he was, and his lips were curled, his nose wrinkled, making him look like a gremlin.

"I think you're the one who needs a muzzle, Rosalie," I spat. "You and your heartless brother." I continued, thinking of Emmett's busted nose and crooked glasses.

She stood up fast. "Don't. Talk. About. My. Brother. You don't know him."

"Who'd want to?"

I knew as soon as the words escaped, I was going to pay for saying it. Rosalie's smile became sinister. She opened her mouth to reply, but to my relief she was interrupted.

"Bella!" Dr. Esme Platt exclaimed.

I smiled. "Dr. Platt!" Her timing was impeccable.

"What are you doing here?" She said drifting closer, her warm eyes peering curiously at the little dog in my arms.

"I've decided to adopt." I said with a laugh.

"So I see," she answered with a smile.

I relaxed instantly at the sight of the smile as did the little dog. Her smile was as friendly and inviting as Rosalie's was malicious. Esme was just the kind of person that made you feel safe. Not necessarily because she could protect you, because there was no more harm in her than there was in Emmett, but rather it was her manner… She could walk up to a complete stranger and make them feel loved. And in truth maybe they were… She seemed to genuinely care about everyone she came across.

"I can see you now if you'd like," she offered.

"Thanks, Dr. Platt that would be awesome."

"Oh, please," she said, leading the way to an exam room, "call me Esme. Dr. Platt was my father."

"Your dad was a vet too?" I asked, curious now.

She laughed. "No, actually he was a gynecologist."

I didn't mean to be rude, but I couldn't help but laugh. I tried to look apologetic but she shrugged it off with another smile. "It is sort of funny." She agreed.

"What's his name," she asked as I set him on the table.

"Um… I don't know… He hasn't got one yet…"

Esme nodded and began her exam. The dog behaved like a perfect gentleman. She asked about his history, but frowned when I couldn't give it to her. I told her about his unusual flexibility and her frown deepened.

"You just found him?"

I nodded. "Is that okay?" I asked, biting my lip.

She hesitated. "He's a very rare breed of dog, I find it hard to believe somebody isn't looking for him. I'm going to scan for an ID chip and check for a tattoo."

I frowned too. I hadn't thought about that, about the possibility of him having a family already.

I watched as her hands flipped his lips to see their insides and then parted the hair on the inside of his thighs, looking at commonly tattooed areas.

She explained as she searched. "They used to put tattoos on the ear, but thieves would cut the ear off and nobody would know the difference. Usually its on the inside thigh or lower stomach, places that can't be easily altered…" She walked over to a drawer and pulled out what I assumed was the chip scanner.

She scanned the back of his neck and frowned again. "No chip…"

"So I can keep him?"

She shrugged. "I suppose if nobody comes looking for him…"

Then came the really gross part. Vaccinations. I closed my eyes tight when I saw the needles. I heard her chuckle and I am sure it was at my expense. The size of the needles involved made me sure I was going to hear the dog cry out in pain at any minute, but he never made a sound.

"You said he was rare…"

"Yes, actually, I've never seen one myself… a Norwegian Lundehund. All done." She said and I opened my eyes.

"If you've never seen one then…"

"I've seen pictures… They are used for hunting seabirds on rocky cliffs. The extra toes are to help with climbing and the flexibility helps with tight squeezes… Do you think every dog can do this?" She asked.

I watched as she reached out and wrapped a hand around the dog's head and began bending _backward_. For a second, I was horrified. She was going to break his neck? But then his neck didn't break. It didn't hurt the dog at all. His head was suspended upside down over his back.

She laughed softly at the look on my face and released the dog. The her hand went into her pocket and she pulled out a dog treat for…

"He really needs a name," I murmured.

"What do you like?" Esme asked.

"I don't know… I've never really had a pet before…"

"Hmm… his golden eyes remind me…Cullen…" she said.

I could tell by the faraway look in her eyes, I wasn't meant to hear. I said nothing although the name Cullen struck a chord. It sounded familiar.

I shrugged it off and picked the dog back up. Esme agreed to have a bill sent over… _Won't Charlie be pleased?_

I was almost out the door when Rosalie stopped me.

"You know, Bella," she said. "I heard some interesting rumors…"

"Oh?" I said, not bothering to turn and look.

"What's the wife of a small town Chief of Police doing, talking to a lawyer?"

I spun around.

She was smiling. "Strange isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I hope your dad had a Prenup signed… If I had to guess, he can't afford to pay much alimony on a civil servant's salary…"

"Shut up!" I snapped.

Little Dog was growling again.

"Shut up, you wicked witch or, I swear to God, I'll bite you myself!"

I spun as her smile grew and slammed the door behind me.

I wandered around, Rosalie's vicious words bouncing around my head. Could it be true? Could my parents be getting a divorce? They had their problems, but what couple didn't?

As far as I knew, neither had a problem with fidelity. And they argued, but that was to be expected from two people who were complete opposites. But that's why they loved each other too. My dad loved that my mother was a free spirit, he loved watching her experience the world with her innocent mentality. And my mom needed his strength, his predictability, to keep her grounded.

But that was the thing about Rosalie… She didn't lie. She never needed too. Why lie when the truth could be so much more damaging? So if my mom was talking to a lawyer, and I was sure it wasn't for divorce, why was that?

The dog tilted its abnormal head back over its shoulder blades to lick my face.

That reminded me…

"How do you feel about the name, _Cullen_?"

He barked.

"Cullen." I said, trying it out.

His pink tongue hung out the side of his mouth creating am impish grin.

"I like it too," I told him.

* * *

**You didn't think I'd write a Wizard of Oz story and leave you without a stand in for Toto, did you?**

**Yes, the Norwegian Lundehund is a very real, unique, and ancient breed. I chose it because Cullen is going to have some "abilities" in Oz. I didn't think the average-Joe-farm-dog look of the Cairn Terrier matched the character I'm creating. For those who want an idea of what Cullen looks like I will have pictures posted on my blog.**

**I think Chapter Four will be the last to take place in Forks because there is a final introduction needed to be done. Chapter Five will have Bella landing in Oz... I hope. These are the official plans, but things rarely go according to plan so I won't promise anything... but just so you have an idea, it won't be much longer....**

**For pics of Cullen: http://equivampsnotebook(dot)blogspot(dot)com and as always there is a link to my blog on my profile.**

**And in case you've noticed familiar phrases, I have been working quotes from the Wizard of Oz movie into the story for my own amusement. If you know the movie, I'm sure you recognized some phrases. I am not plagarizing. I admit they aren't mine. If I created the Wizard of Oz do you think I'd be writing fanfiction? Hell, No, I'd be on a yacht somewhere in the Carribean...**

**Leave a review! I love those!**


	4. The Party

I heard the music coming from the house before I actually found it. I drove slowly up the winding driveway, shaking my head with regret. I never should have picked up the phone.

"_Bella? Guess what?" Jessica was yelling into the phone with excitement._

"_What?" I asked, while putting a few inches between me and the ear piece as she let out a high pitched squeal._

"_The Hales are throwing a party! Everybody who's anybody is going! I'm going to pick up Angela around seven so… we'll see you there around seven twenty?"_

"_What? No!" I shouted. _

_If the price of being a somebody meant spending an evening with the Hales, then I would rather be a nobody._

"_Bella, you have to go!"_

"_No, Jess-"_

"_Bella!" She shouted over me. "Bella," she said, her voice softening, "we're friends right?"_

"_Yeah…"_

_We bickered. I was adamant. And yet…_

The house came into view; the pristine, white mansion shining like a beacon, the windows sparkling like they had just been cleaned for a Windex commercial. The Hales must have had a motion detector set up because as I entered the yard, floodlights lit up the entire space, the bright light reaching all the way to the tree line. Taken by surprise, I slammed on the breaks; my truck groaned at the unexpected abuse. While I waited for my eyes to adjust I spotted Jessica's car. I eased my foot off the break and onto the gas, and slid into a space behind her, ensuring that she wasn't allowed to leave until I did.

I sat for a moment, bracing myself for the worst while trying to figure out why I had allowed myself to be talked into coming here. The lights clicked off and I was left to sulk in the darkness. With one final deep breath to steady myself, I opened the door; the lights reappeared almost immediately. I blinked and I swayed on my feet and I heard a whimper.

"Yeah, yeah," I murmured, slipping my hand under his belly and lifting him from the seat.

It had taken a little debate, but I had decided Cullen should accompany me. If he was with me, he couldn't have another accident… Once was enough for Charlie, of this I was sure. And if nothing else, my new friend was an interesting conversation piece.

I walked passed the cars and up onto the wraparound porch. I paused to survey the Romanesque columns which had been wrapped in twinkle lights.

_Time to take one for the team_, I thought to myself and Jessica's excited face popped into my mind. I hoped she appreciated this.

I opened the door to find that everybody who went to Forks High had already arrived. I stepped in over the threshold and nobody looked at me. I breathed a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

The house was as enormous inside as it was outside. The downstairs was mostly open space from what I could tell, and I could see a sunken living room from where I was standing. A grand, curving staircase was across from me, but I disregarded it. I was curious, sure, I admit that. But I would not be caught snooping around the Hales' house.

I walked slowly through the crowd of dancing, fraternizing, buzzing teenagers… I cursed Jessica's name. That's what I needed. My overprotective, chief of police father, to find out I was attending a party where excessive under aged drinking was taking place.

I slipped into the kitchen and gasped at all the silver, gleaming appliances. It was like standing in the kitchen of a five star chef. Rosalie was there at the counter with several of her friends, participating in a game of "Have you ever?" She looked up, just long enough to sneer at me, and then I backed out of the room as fast as possible. I didn't need an invite.

I backed into something solid and yelped in surprise. I turned.

"Em!" I yelled over the music.

"Hey, Bella!" He yelled back.

"Have you seen Jessica or Angela?" I asked.

"I think Jess was making out with Conner on the couch!"

"_Connor_?"

He nodded and his glasses slid down his nose.

"Where's Mike?"

Emmett gave a mischievous grin and shrugged. I interpreted that as his way of saying that he didn't know or care.

"Thanks!" I shouted and then reached up. His eyes widened in surprise as I pushed his glasses back up to where they belonged.

He blushed and his dimples appeared as he called back, "No problem!"

He stepped to the side to let me by. I scooted around his wide frame, stumbling as my toe caught on the Persian carpet, and bumping into another girl from school. I glanced at her to apologize, but she had already turned her attention back to her friends. Clearly, I needed no introduction. My grace was infamous.

I wandered back to the living room and somebody thrust a red plastic cup into my hand. I immediately dumped the contents in the nearest potted plant and passed the cup to someone else's hands. Then I spotted Jessica's curls, some of which were fisted in Connor's hand, his freckled face hidden by her hands. They were writhing on the couch, in time to the music, and I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

I walked over. "Uh, Jess? Jess?"

She removed a hand from Connor's cheek just long enough to wave me away. A dismissal.

"Jessica!"

She pulled away from his face with a smacking sound.

"Bella, what!" She looked irritated, but I ignored it.

"Where's Angela?"

"She couldn't make it. Something about her dad wanting her to attend evening mass…?"

I nodded, but mentally I was giving Angela the finger. There was no evening mass tonight. Smart girl. I looked back at Jessica but her lips had already reattached themselves to Connor's. I considered reminding her that she had a boyfriend then realized that this was probably karma at work. Mike had been rumored to be cheating and I wouldn't put it past him. I only wished Jessica could catch him in the act… She might be a ditz from time to time, but she would have had no compunctions about kicking his butt to the curb. She was stronger than that.

I turned around and stepped out of the living room not really sure what to do with myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open. I didn't need a clear line of sight to decode who was joining the party. Only one person in Forks wore that much black.

I watched as people moved out of his way. They didn't even seem to notice that they moved, or that it was him they moved for. Like polar magnets, his very presence seemed to move them away. He glanced at me and made eye contact. He nodded his head, I nodded mine, and then he ducked out of sight.

As I wandered around, I became aware of my arms starting to ache. I looked at Cullen who looked back up at me. His golden eyes blinked at me, patiently. I set him down and growled in frustration. I didn't want to be here. Jessica ditched me to suck face with a boy who wasn't her boyfriend. I should leave.

The thought no sooner crossed my mind when something heavy bumped into me and I stumbled, grabbing a nearby statue to hold myself upright. I became aware that the front on my shirt was soaked and reeking of a rum and coke.

I spun about to see red cheeks on an unrepentant face.

Lauren Mallory aka Rosalie wannabe.

"Watch it, Swan!" She laughed.

I was outraged. "You witch! _You_ pushed _me_!"

She laughed. "Witch? Why don't you put on your big girl panties and say what you really mean? I'll give you a hint, it rhymes with witch…"

I took a step toward her and she lifted a thin eyebrow in challenge.

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

"Hmm," she smirked at me, "Try explaining to daddy that you weren't drinking when you are covered in the evidence… Does the chief know where his little girl is tonight?"

She didn't wait for an answer, instead she turned her back on me.

"Bitch," I hissed under my breath as she walked away.

I was getting out. _Now_. I had a feeling I wouldn't be missed.

"Cullen!" I snapped, bending down to grab the dog… I froze.

He was gone.

I wandered around looking for him, attempting to get help. Every time I asked about the dog, people would give me weird looks and turn their backs to me. I made a couple of laps around the house before eyeing the staircase speculatively. Would he go upstairs to get away from the crowd?

"Hey! Hey, you!" A heavy girl with red hair was talking to me.

"Yeah?"

"You were the one looking for the dog, right?"

"Yes! Have you seen him?"

"Jasper Hale just took him outside."

My stomach plummeted. I had only owned Cullen for a day and I was already attached. Jasper wasn't know for his compassion. I don't know what he'd do to that little dog, but I had no desire to find out how far his cruelty stretched. I pushed by the girl and headed to the nearest exit.

I stepped out onto the porch and shivered when I realized how dramatically the air had changed. The wind had picked up and strengthened, pulling at my clothes. The air was humid and cold at the same time.

"Cullen!" I called. "Jasper?"

Nothing.

"Jasper Hale! What have you done with my dog?"

"Over here!" He called from around the corner to the left. "And I haven't done anything with your dog."

I walked around the corner to see Jasper sitting on a porch swing. He didn't look at me. He was staring out at the grass, where Cullen was sniffing around. Jasper's blonde hair lifted up with each gust of wind and I smiled at the image. My eyes had lost control… I knew he was a jerk, but he was a good looking jerk. The shirt he was wearing clung to chest, his jeans were low on his hips and even though he was sitting, I could still imagine how he would look from behind… I'm not ashamed to say that I've noticed Jasper has excellent glutes.

He looked up at me and smirked as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. I blushed and looked down.

I looked up and tried to meet his eyes, but I couldn't because he was no longer looking at my face. My face felt like it had burst into flames when I realized exactly what he was looking at. My wet shirt and what it was now failing to conceal. I crossed my arms.

"Cold, are we?" He asked and one of his hazel eyes winked at me.

"Why did you take off with my dog?" I snapped.

His eyes narrowed. "Why did you invite him along? I don't believe we added pets to the party list."

I said nothing.

He grumbled something and shook his head. "Look, parties are more Rose's thing. The dog was getting ready to squat on the bear rug. It was an excuse to get out." He muttered something else and stood up. "For fuck's sakes, take it." He ripped his jacket off in a huff and held it out to me.

I hesitated. Mostly because his shirt was a short sleeved T and he had just revealed his lean forearms to me. Partly because the gesture confused me. He shook the jacket to get my attention. I took it from him fast, trying to reveal my problem for as short a time as possible, which made him grin wider. I wrapped the coat around my shoulders but refused to put my arms through the sleeves; I gripped it shut from the inside.

But he wasn't looking at me anymore, the seat creaked as his weight plopped heavily back into the swing. Slowly, not sure if he'd object, I sat down at the opposite end.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He said nothing.

"For the jacket…and for Cullen…"

"Cullen?" He repeated staring out at the dog while I stared at him. "Interesting choice…" Then he frowned and cocked his head. "Something's not right with that dog."

I glanced over. Cullen had worked his way over to a crabapple tree and was about seven feet off the ground, lying on a knarled limb.

"Its got six toes and climbs trees. Of course there's something not right with him." And then, because he didn't seem to hear me the first time, I added, "Thanks, by the way…"

He looked at me, his eyes tightened with annoyance. "You don't have to keep thanking me you know. I am capable of being nice once in awhile."

My eyes tightened too, as I remembered Emmett crawling under the bleachers with a bloody nose.

"Hmph… Breaking news bulletin… Jasper Hale was _nice_ out of the pure goodness of his heart."

"That's interesting coming from you." Jasper said.

His face had darkened with emotion, but even so I felt my breath catch in my throat. I might not like him but he was undeniably handsome, and for a second, the narrow planes of his face held me captive. But then I refocused on the words he had spoken.

"What do you mean?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "How many guys do you torture in a fucking day, Swan? God forbid you just pick one. You're a dirty tease."

"What?" I gasped. "How do you figure that?"

He smiled wickedly at me. "The Masen punk is here tonight." He said matter-of-factly.

"So?"

"So? You think me and Rosalie want that little freak of nature at our house? Hell, do you think anyone wants Captain Headcase wandering around their house? Nobody is friends with that freakish fuckup-"

"Stop calling him that!" I snapped. "You don't know him!"

"Oh, what? Don't like me insulting your boyfriend?"

"He's not my-"

"Exactly. You go out of your way to be nice to him and the poor guy follows you around like a fucking golden retriever. I mean, the dude is practically stalking your fine ass. He follows you everywhere. Sure as shit no one else invited him."

I opened my mouth to retort but had nothing. Was that true? Edward never was invited… but he was there for every event… Was it possible that he only went places because of me?

"Or what about that nerd? Friggin' Andre the Giant Junior? My god, could anybody get more pathetic than that kid?"

"He is not-"

"And there you go again. Standing up for him. All the time you stand up for him. Like it would kill you to let the little bitch take his balls from your purse and wear 'em for awhile. And you know what? He _likes_ it. I see it in his face every time you show up with your cheeks flushed and those ripe lips pouted… His tiny avenging angel to the rescue. And then when you walk away his face falls because he knows you won't give him the time of fucking day."

"I… That's not… um…" I stumbled over myself, this time verbally, trying to figure out how to respond to that.

But then Jasper looked at me with an expression that had my heart racing in my chest. He slid closer to me, reached a hand up and tangled it in my hair. The look on his face was intense. I wasn't scared. I didn't think he'd hurt me. But he was so close… I could smell him. He smelled like cinnamon.

I attempted to pull away, but either he didn't notice or he didn't care. I was angry. How dare he accuse me of being a tease, say these things to me. Where did he get the right?

"And what about me?" He hissed.

My jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Wh-what? Y-y-you?" I stuttered, nervously

He leaned closer. My body betrayed me and I felt an ache in a place that had no right to be disobedient at this moment. He was hurtful, saying hurtful things, and I didn't want to be turned on by the predatory glint in his hazel eyes, or the way his calloused fingers were inadvertently rubbing against my ear.

"Yes, _me_. How do you think I feel every time you bat those fucking eyelashes at Masen? Or every time you put those delicate little hands on McCarty and they should be on me? Or when I listen to locker room talk and that douchbag Newton talks about screwing your best friend when he'd rather be screwing you? Or that moronic mutt, Jacob? Did you know him and his friends have a bet going as to who gets to nail you first? Its no secret you're a virgin. And its senior year. What a way for those wolves to celebrate…graduating with the ultimate prize…"

I couldn't speak. I wanted to. But what would I say? And why was he moving closer?

"You are a goddamned tease. You should be _my_ girl. On _my_ arm. In _my_ car." He paused for a breath and added, "In _my_ bed."

I gasped at his bold words.

"Remember last year when you broke your arm? I carried your books for you because we had mostly the same classes. I assure you I didn't volunteer for my own fucking health. And every time you caught me looking at you, you would blush and I was dying to feel the heat of those cheeks on my lips, to have the taste of you on my tongue."

He leaned closer. I could feel his breath on my face. But I didn't like it. Jasper Hale was king and he was confessing his love - or lust? - for me and I couldn't even enjoy it because he was angry. He was forceful. He was _scaring _me.

"Jasper! You need to let go! I think you've had too much to drink."

"I haven't had anything to drink, Isabella," He whispered, but he let go of my hair and moved back an inch.

I was relieved that he'd let go of my hair, but he still had that look in his eyes. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream and, yes, I wanted a cold shower. I wanted to slap him and defend myself against his claims. I wanted an apology and I wanted to go home.

Suddenly his hand was on my face and his face was leaning toward mine. The distance between my lips and his was closing fast. I slapped him before he could get there. I pushed him away and he let me go. His words were in my ears, stinging me, and I dashed out into the yard to hide my tears.

I was halfway to the tree when something sharp struck my face. I froze in shock. Then something else struck my shoulder.

"Bella!" Jasper sounded urgent. "Bella come back here!"

His desperation fueled my determination. I continued to the tree. So there was hail. So what?

"Bella, I'm sorry! Bella you can't drive in this, you'll get hurt!"

More sharp strikes to my skin as I reached up and pulled the little dog from the tree.

I was wet now. The water was dripping from my eyelashes. It was raining now, too.

I realized that Jasper was right about one thing. I couldn't drive in this. But I couldn't go back to him. And I wasn't going to go back to the party. The sharp lumps of ice continued to pummel me as I ducked my head defensively. There was a flash of lightening and then I saw it. A safe haven. A tool shed.

Even as I ran toward it, I was vaguely aware that Jasper was shouting something over the wind, but I couldn't hear him anymore. I didn't want to. I unbolted the door, slipped inside and slammed the door behind me. The smell of mildew and gasoline and paint thinner was heavy in the air. I cracked a window open to let in the fresh air and made my way to the back of the shed. It was childish, but I knew if he followed me, he wouldn't see me up against the wall, crouched in the dark behind a lawn mower. I slid to the ground. I listened as the storm raged outside and tried block out the memories made only minutes earlier on the porch swing.

I held Cullen close as I sobbed angry tears into his fur, but then a new kind of darkness began to settle in my mind. Before I could be surprised, I felt a strange floating sensation as if my body had turned to rubber and then…

Then there was nothing at all.

* * *

**Sorry about Jasper's swearing problem. He wasn't planned that way, but his dialogue took on a life of its own when I started writing.**

**I'm going to be posting an Over The Rainbow related poll on my profile... stop by and vote when you have a chance.**

**As always you can find me at http:/equivampsnotebook(dot)blogspot(dot)com**

**Review!**


	5. The Good Witch

**Important notice at the bottom.**

* * *

The first thing I became aware of when I became conscious, was a throbbing pain on the back of my head. The second thing was weight pressing down on top of me. Something had fallen on me. I tried to move. The third thing I was aware of was a hand on my back that hadn't been there when the first thing registered.

"Don't move," A male voice instructed.

The hand on my back disappeared.

I didn't have the energy to tell him that that wasn't going to be an issue. I didn't have the energy to move. Whoever had spoken to me, began to make clanking, banging noises and I flinched as the noise assaulted my already throbbing head. Before I could find my voice to ask what he was doing, the weight on my back lessened. Whoever he was, he was unburying me.

My eyes fluttered open as I struggled to catch a glimpse of the mystery man. I squeezed them shut as the sunlight coursing through the windows blinded me.

_Sunlight?_

My eyes fluttered open again and I squinted to let them adjust to the light. There was sunlight? That meant it was morning. A rare sunny day in Forks… _Wait a minute... Why am I on the floor again?_

Then the memories came flooding in. The party. The spilled beer. The search for Cullen. The argument with Jasper. The trip to the tool shed.

The tool shed.

I remembered blacking out in there. Is that where I was now?

I groaned in horror. Something had fallen on me in the tool shed and Jasper… My eyes squeezed shut again as I prayed for oblivion to return. Jasper saw me run in here and he never saw me run out. I was the _special_ girl who hid in his tool shed all night long. He probably had a great big laugh about it with his friends.

Whoever was helping me should have just let me die.

I knew when the debris was cleared away, but I still didn't bother moving. I didn't get curious enough to look up until I realized that he didn't speak to me again. Slowly I moved into a sitting position and surveyed my surroundings. I looked at a pile of heavy tools - shovels, rakes, hoes - and glanced behind me to see the empty rack. Somehow they must have fallen from their spot on the wall and onto me. I saw Cullen crouching underneath a tool bench, staring out at me with a look of concentration on his lupine face. But there was no one else.

"Hello?" I called out. "Where'd you go?"

But there was no answer.

I looked to the door. It was open a crack and sunlight was streaming through the inch wide gap. Maybe he already left.

I braced an arm against the wall and began to stand up. As my weight shifted something peculiar happened. The shed _moved. _I yelped as the shed tilted backwards. I felt my knees buckle at the unexpected motion; if my arm hadn't been bracing against the wall I would have fallen down. Cullen slid a few inches across the floor before he got to his feet too.

My body froze in panic, but the shed had already stopped moving. Carefully, I made my way to the door. As I passed the halfway point, the shed shifted again, back in the other direction. This time there was nothing supporting me and the sudden shift sent me falling into and through the door. I landed hard onto warm, sun baked bricks.

_Bricks?_

I pushed myself up onto my knees. My hand flew to my mouth to muffle the scream of surprise that tried to escape.

"Cullen, I don't think we're in Forks anymore."

I didn't know where we were, but the words that best described this place were: beautiful and surreal. It was like something out of a dream, but I was sure the warmth of the sun was real, and I couldn't stop myself from questioning reality. I didn't think I had the creativity to dream something like this up.

I was kneeling on a brick pathway that was a vibrant, rich yellow, like sunflower petals. One side of the path was bordered by houses that were shaped like large toadstools; pastel colored stems with tan thatched tops. Every window was a perfect little square and every window had a beautifully tended flower box underneath. The doors were strangely small, the tallest was no more than four feet, and I had to wonder what kind of person would build a city of toadstool houses with doors you'd have to crawl through.

On the opposite side of the yellow brick road, there was a lush, green river bank covered with wild flowers of every color imaginable. Bright blues and hot pinks and velvety purples all thrived next to a river that was so pristine I could see straight to the bottom.

I rose to my feet and moved toward the river, taking care not to step on any of the wild flowers. I looked in and gasped.

Floating on the surface were the biggest water-lilies I had ever seen. The lily-pads were as wide as hoola-hoops while the blossoms were like ivory mixing-bowls. Green frogs with red eyes stared lazily up at me from their perches on the leaves of the giant floating plants, while I caught the flash of silver scaled fish swimming beneath them. The yellow brick road ran down for about another twenty feet then passed over the river; but closer still, was a raised wooden bridge spanning between the grassy banks.

"Where are we?" I asked out loud even though there was no one around to answer.

That's when I heard the giggling.

I flinched as the sound of many high pitch giggles echoed through the air. I spun around in circles trying to spot the culprits and shivered with fear when there was no one to see.

"Hello? Who's there?" I called out.

No answer.

I jogged up to the bridge and stood on the highest point of the arch.

"Who's out there?" I called again.

There was another round of giggling and my emotions shifted from creeped out to annoyed.

"Where are you? Come out!"

I revolved slowly on the spot stopping when I caught sight of the courtyard.

The yellow brick road led into the courtyard, where it met with a second brick road, this one red. The red and yellow bricks never intersected, instead they spiraled around the yard together, until the tips of each pathway met at the smallest possible point.

I had almost forgotten about the giggling when Cullen started barking.

I looked down at him to see that he was looking up. I followed his gaze and my jaw dropped.

A red ball floated toward us, about the size of an apple, and as it neared it began growing in size… Definitely not an apple. The sphere was impossibly large when it landed on the bridge and popped. I jumped at the high pitched noise and took a couple steps back. When I looked to the spot where the bubble had landed I yelped in surprise.

There on the bridge stood the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

Her hair was the color of warm caramel, billowing down to her shoulders in soft curves, and on her head a silver and diamond tiara sparkled brilliantly in the sunlight. Her skin was pale as alabaster and kind but cautious eyes watched me from underneath gracefully arched eyebrows. The gown she wore was extraordinary; a deep red material that shimmered wherever the sun touched it. Between the bodice and the skirt, a matching sash wrapped around her narrow waist, held in place with a large brooch that complimented her tiara.

She took a step towards me. I took a step away.

"Hello." She greeted in a soft voice.

I said nothing. I couldn't speak.

"Who are you?" She asked.

My mind was scrambled, but she waited patiently for me to find the answer to her question.

"Bella Swan," I told her, once I remembered my name.

"Why have you come here, Bella Swan?"

I laughed; the sound was hollow. "I don't even know where here is… Where am I?"

She looked surprise by this new information and blinked at me before answering, "Why, this is Munchkinland, of course."

Of course. _Munchkinland_. Why didn't I think of that?

"The Munchkins suffer from a mild case of xenophobia," She laughed sweetly, "they're a kind and occasionally mischievous people, but get nervous easily. They'd like to thank you for what you've done but request that you leave."

_What have I done?_

This was confusing as hell. I had no idea what was real and what was fake. This place felt real, but this woman was unbelievable. Every time she mentioned _munchkins_ I had thoughts of those little donuts they sell at DunkinDonuts. I wanted to go home to my dreary little town where everything was normal and breakfast pastries didn't giggle.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to get back."

"Well, let's start with the basics. First of all, are you a good witch? Or a bad witch?"

"Witch? I'm not a witch!" I shouted at her indignantly.

This set off a whole new round of giggling. The lady in red gave a small chuckle too.

She flies in, in a big red bubble, and tells me I don't belong here, and she thinks _I'm_ the witch?

"Who is that?" I asked.

"Those are the Munchkins. They're the small people who live in this country."

She waved a hand at me. "I'm a little muddled. You see, the Munchkins called me because a new witch just dropped a tool shed on the old witch. And here you are and there's the tool shed and there's the Wicked Witch of the East…" She pointed back the way I'd came. I turned and looked.

I gasped in horror. Protruding from underneath the tool shed was a pair of legs that came to end in sparkling red ballet flats. I killed someone? My vision became blurred with tears as the guilt knotted my stomach. I killed someone. What were they going to do to me now? Then with horror I realized why the shed had been so unstable; the body had acted as a pivot. My stomach lurched and I was terrified I was going to throw up on the lady's dress.

"There, there, dear," the lady said, smiling kindly at me. "This is a good thing. You're a heroine now. You've freed the Munchkins. But the question remains: Are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"I'm… not a… w-wit-ch…" I stuttered between sobs. "Witches are mean and ugly."

More giggling.

I was being accused of witchcraft, _Oh, God, are they going to burn me at the stake?_ I had just been informed that I had killed someone they called the Wicked Witch of the East and the Munchkins were _laughing_? This was hardly an appropriate time.

As if she knew what I was thinking, the woman explained, "The Munchkins are laughing at you because I am a witch. I am the Good Witch of the North."

That sidetracked me. I stopped crying and stared at her in surprise. She didn't seem to notice.

"Is that the witch?" She asked, pointing at Cullen. "He seems like a likely candidate."

"Cullen?" I frowned, questioning her sanity as well as my own. "Cullen's just a dog."

"Hmm…" She eyed him suspiciously as he curled his tail up over his back and gave it a wag.

"Where do you call home?" The Good Witch asked.

"Forks, Washington."

She frowned. "How did you get here from there?"

"I don't know. I want to go home, but I don't know how I left home. I was in the tool shed when some stuff fell on me and knocked me out. Then I woke up to some man unburying me and I don't know where he went or even what he looks like but I came out of the shed and here I am." I was babbling wildly and I bit my lip to hold it shut.

"So I see." The Good Witch smiled warmly at me and I was filled with calm. Whoever she was, she didn't seem to want to hurt me. Whoever she was, she could at least tell me _where_ I was.

"Please," I said, "you must know how I can get home from here. I want to go home."

She frowned in thought but her face softened again.

"The easiest way for you to go home would be to go the way you came."

"But I don't know how I came!"

She reached out and put a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Peace," she said. "First things first."

I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant when she turned away from me.

"Come out!" She called. "She's a friend to us! Come out and meet our visitor!"

* * *

**Important Notice:**

Now that I've gotten my computer issues worked out, I will try to get back to posting, but I've recently come down with some health issues that are leaving me a bit drained. I am working on updates for all of my stories, because it is busy work to keep my mind off of things, but updates will probably come a little slower, until the Docs figure out whats wrong with me.

* * *

**Extras for the chapter:**

_Once the decision was made to put The Good Witch in a red dress, I found several costume-y dresses but I could not force myself to put her in sequins and glitter. So I found something a little more elegant…_

(http:/)/i16(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/b36/BarnBelle17/goodwitch-1-1(dot)jpg

_I replaced the crown with this tiara…_

(http:/)/i16(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/b36/BarnBelle17/goodwitch-2(dot)jpg

_I hope you like the improvements._

_You can also find these pictures on my blog, click the Over The Rainbow story page and scroll down to "Extras"_


	6. The Munchkins

I felt my eyes widen in surprise as one by one, the Munchkins began to reveal themselves. They emerged from various hiding places; crawling out from behind bushes, climbing down from perches in trees, stepping out from their toadstool shaped houses, a pair even came wading out from under the bridge the Good Witch and I had been standing on. It was easy enough for my fear and confusion to be replaced by amazement at the sight before me.

The Munchkins certainly were a "small people" as the Good Witch had so nicely put it. Not one of them could have been more than three feet tall, and their bodies were perfectly proportioned to their height. I would have thought I was looking at children if it weren't for several bearded faces and deep wrinkles under graying eyebrows. They wore the strangest clothing; strange mostly because they all wore some kind of cloak, despite the warm sun. The women wore pastel colored cloaks that fastened at the throat and hung open to reveal light, floaty dresses beneath, dresses that were in the same color family as the cloak but richer in tone as opposed to the pale hues. The men wore cloaks that were fastened at the waist instead of the neck, they were rich in color the way the women's dresses were, but underneath the cloaks, where their shirts were revealed, the garb was neon as opposed to pastel. Looking out at them from my post on the bridge, it was like watching a rainbow come alive, broken up into all its smallest molecules and scattered about.

They all watched me through cautious eyes, but I couldn't bring myself to be self-conscious the way I usually was when the attention focused on me. Whether or no this was a dream, it no longer mattered. This was extraordinary.

I felt a pressure on my arm and I glanced down to see the witch's hands wrapping around my forearm. She smiled another warm smile and pulled me gently from the bridge and toward the courtyard where the majority of the Munchkins were gathering.

There was silence as they stared at me with suspicion and I shifted awkwardly.

Then a man with blonde hair that was combed back from his forehead like a young Elvis Presley, stepped forward and cleared his throat to draw attention to himself.

In a deep voice that didn't match his small size he asked, "Is it true then? Did you kill the witch?" The tone of his voice was neutral, devoid of anger or accusation.

But I flinched at the question. I hadn't meant to kill anyone. And I couldn't be sure I had killed anyone, even inadvertently. How could I be responsible for her death? Its not like I was aware the shed was falling, or was steering it, I was unconscious at the time. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I was just there. Not that these facts made me feel any less guilty. A woman was dead. I had been there.

When I didn't answer, the Good Witch did.

"Its true," the Good Witch told them. "The Wicked Witch of the East is dead."

The man stepped back. The Munchkins began exchanging looks and excited murmurs and all at once the colorful mass burst into deafening cheers. And in a single wave, they surged forward together, arms wrapping around my waist and my legs as they all tried to hug me at once. I couldn't have run if I wanted to, which I kind of did, because the small warm bodies surrounded me completely.

The Munchkins began speaking to me all at once, some thanking me, some congratulating me, but it was impossible to tell who's voice was who's.

"Alright! Alright!" The Good Witch called out behind me, her voice full of laughter. "Don't overwhelm her! She's only just arrived!"

Slowly the wave of color receded and small faces looked up at me, the suspicion in their eyes replaced with excitement and curiosity.

Before another word could be spoken, a bugle call sounded in the near distance. The Munchkins smiled knowingly and began to clear a path. A bugle sounded again, closer, and this time I heard hoof beats clattering on brick. Their backs turned to me as they turned to watch a small carriage carrying four more Munchkins - two male, two female - and pulled by a team of small white Munchkin sized ponies, approach. The carriage was surrounded by eight more figures on the ground who were keeping an easy trot to match the speed of the carriage.

The Munchkins in the carriage wore crimson cloaks, only these cloaks revealed nothing of clothing underneath, completely covering the newcomers with the exception of their heads and hands. Both men in the carriage had long straight hair; one crow black, the other platinum blonde. The woman clutching the arm of the black haired man, had brown hair shorter that her escort's, and had a pinched face. The other woman was a sharp contrast; her hair matched her escort's in color but was much longer in length, and everything about her body was round.

The Munchkins on the ground wore cloaks of the same design, but of a different color; dark grey. Despite the size and shape differences in the small group, they all matched each other stride for stride, never breaking formation, never losing balance despite the rigid alert postures they carried.

_Military,_ I thought, becoming more curious about the figures in red.

The carriage pulled to a stop. One at a time the four figures exited the carriage and stepped down onto the bricks. The Munchkin soldiers immediately converged into a new formation with the red cloaks in the center.

I shifted nervously as they approached.

"Bella Swan," the Good Witch announced and I looked over at her to realize she wasn't talking to me.

She moved forward and then said, "Bella, I would like to introduce you to Aro Volturi, the President of Munchkinland, and his brother, Mayor of Munchkin City, Caius Volturi. Aro's wife, Sulpicia and Caius's wife, Athenodora."

"Bella Swan?" The Munchkin with blonde hair, Mayor Caius, repeated my name suspiciously.

Aro, the black-haired Munchkin, raised a hand to silence his brother. He approached cautiously, keeping Sulpicia slightly behind him. Caius moved forward with Aro, Athenodora clinging to tightly to his side to be pushed back to a safer position.

"Bella Swan," Aro said, "Did you kill Lorelle, Wicked Witch of the East, Curse Upon the Small Friends of Munchkinland?"

My mouth opened and closed several times as I tried to answer his question.

"Answer the question!" Caius barked.

"I didn't… I didn't mean to do it. I swear, I-"

"But you did do it?" He interrupted.

"Yes." I whispered staring down at his feet.

"Extraordinary!" Aro exclaimed. "My dear girl! Do you realize what you've done?"

My eyes snapped to his face, but he threw his head back and laughed, clapping his hands excitedly a couple of times. He leapt forward with surprising agility for somebody with legs so short and seized my hand, shaking it so vigorously my teeth clacked together with the vibrations.

"You've freed my people! You're a national heroine! Well done! We'll be putting your name in -"

"Aro!" Barked Caius, stopping the President mid ramble.

Aro looked at Caius.

"Brother," he began more calmly, "I understand the importance of this occasion, but first we should make sure this _is_ an important occasion."

Aro frowned for a split second then his eyes widened as he it some realization.

"Right. You're absolutely right my brother, absolutely right." He straightened up and began looking around the crowded courtyard, eventually letting his eyes follow the pathway back to the shed. He frowned and looked back to Caius.

"Where the bloody blue blazes _is_ Marcus?"

Caius shrugged. "I told you we should have picked him up."

Unable to contain my curiosity, I took advantage of Aro and Caius distraction. I leaned closer to the Good Witch. "Who's Marcus?" I asked quietly.

She leaned in and whispered back, "Marcus Volturi, a third brother. He's the Coroner in this county."

I glanced back at the two brothers who's heads were practically touching as they discussed something hurriedly. The happiness was gone from Aro's face, as the sour expression was gone from Caius's; instead they both looked worried.

"I don't understand. Why are they so upset?"

"Marcus is… _different._"

"Different?"

The Good Witch seemed to take a moment to debate about how much she should tell me before she sighed sadly and explained.

"You may have noticed, that the people of Munchkinland are… shorter than most? Well, that's the norm in these parts, but it is possible for Munchkinlanders to be born as a member of the Tall Order of Munchkins."

"They're worried because he's too tall?"

"Oh, goodness, no. There's nothing wrong with being born a Tall or anything particularly worrisome about the condition."

"Oh."

"Marcus fell in love with a Short. Didyme Short. She was the youngest Short daughter in the Short family. Anyways, Marcus studied to be a Doctor, but Jebediah Short was outraged when he found out about the short relationship. His Short daughter marry a Tall? He's a very influential member of the community and he blacklisted Marcus, forcing him to take a job as a coroner. Jeb's hope was that Didyme would see that she could do better than a coroner. But Didyme didn't care what Marcus did for a living and neither did Marcus as long as he had her. When Marcus proposed there was a short uproar followed by a second proposal that he and Didyme would leave Munchkinland altogether which was followed by a _big_ uproar."

"What did the Short father do?"

"He threatened to disown her. She would have been shunned by her family denied any inheritance… But she didn't care. Marcus and Didyme left for the Emerald City and the very same day, Jebediah renounced her kinship."

"But then…"

"They made it just beyond the borders of Munchkinland, but a bear came across them in the woods. The horse they were sharing startled and threw its riders. The bear attacked sweet Didyme Short. Marcus managed to drive the animal off but it was too late to save her. They were found by a family who lived in the area and were brought home. Marcus acted like a lion protecting its cubs. Whenever anyone tried to separate him from the body he'd lash out. When it came time to do the final exam and prepare the body for burial he demanded to do it all himself. He was afraid that someone else wouldn't be able to give her body the respect and care it deserved."

"Wait." I stopped her. "_The final exam?_ You mean, Marcus Volturi _autopsied_ his own wife?"

The Good Witch nodded. "As you can imagine, after being unable to defend the love of his life and watching her die, being given the task of bringing her body home to the family that turned its back on her, autopsying his wife, cleaning her for burial…" She cringed and shook her head. "It affected him in irreversible ways. He's not the same man he was…"

She trailed off as the sound of hoof beats came clattering toward us. Aro and Caius visibly relaxed as a large black horse, pulling a large black coach approached. Instead of approaching us, the Munchkin driving the horse followed the road toward the shed. It stopped in front of the shed, blocking the grotesque sight of the deceased's legs. The slender little man driving the coach hopped to the ground. He opened the door of the coach and three Munchkins climbed from the cab of the coach. The four men lined up in a row near the horse as taller Munchkin climbed from the cab. He wasn't tall by human standards, only about five feet or so, but he towered over his companions. All five men wore black cloaks with the hoods drawn up.

The tall one, Marcus, ignored his companions and walked over to the shed. His head bowed toward the feet sticking out. He turned to his companions and must have said something because they were suddenly in motion. They disappeared from sight as they approached the shed and were blocked from view by the coach.

But the horse and coach couldn't hide the fact that the shed was shaking.

A high pitched voice shouted, "Heave!"

With a resounding crash that made me leap into the air, the shed tipped over.

There was silence for several minutes and then Marcus reappeared as he straightened his back and stood.

Slowly, Marcus made his way toward us, every head in the courtyard watched his approach. It was so quiet his footstep could be heard, despite the long cloak muffling the noise. He short-cutted over the wooden bridge and there was a shuffle as the Munchkins hurried to reposition themselves so they could get a better look at him.

As Marcus drew near, I couldn't stop myself from shivering. He seemed to be giving off an energy, that sunk into my bones and lingered. I told myself it was his profession that bothered me, but a quick glance around the impossible land I found myself in and I knew it was something more. I stepped back as he passed by me to stand in front of his brothers.

He lowered his hood to reveal himself. His hair was dark as Aro's but not nearly as long and his skin was pale and sallow.

Before speaking, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a scroll. He unrolled the sheet of paper and read in a flat monotone voice, "I, Marcus Volturi, Executive Coroner for the Eastern County of Munchkinland, herby declare, Lorelle Hazelnut, also known as The Wicked Witch of the East, Curse Upon the Small Friends of Munchkinland - even though that title is politically incorrect because not all the Friends of Munchkinland are small - is not only merely dead, but really quite sincerely dead."

At the end of the proclamation another thunderous roar from the Munchkins ended the quiet.

Marcus turned to look at me for the first time since his arrival. His face was blank, completely devoid of expression. He ran his eyes over me, appraising me. His eyes held me captive. While the rest of his face was empty and impassive, his eyes were not empty. Instead, I felt as if I could see agony echoing in their depths, a silent, half crazed scream struggling to find its way free of the eyes that held it captive. They spoke of loss and unbearable agony and experiences so painful I couldn't hold his gaze for fear of taking that burden onto myself.

Luckily, Aro caused a distraction, screaming out in his excitement, "Let the joyous news be spread! The Wicked Old Witch, at last, is dead!"

* * *

**Tell me what you think, by hitting the little review button. Also, if you haven't voted yet you should stop by the OTR poll on my profile. **

**And I'm curious if anyone noticed that I gave a shoutout to a completely unrelated movie. I wish I could promise you a prize for guessing correctly but I'm afraid you'll just have to settle for the satisfaction of a job well done.**


	7. The Celebration

Within seconds, the colorful mass of Munchkins sprang into action. There were shouts for food and beverages so trolleys were rolled out, piled high with food. There were calls for seating arrangements and folding chairs appeared so suddenly I questioned whether or not they had been placed there from the beginning. There were calls for entertainment and then musicians and dancers appeared. Within minutes the courtyard had been transformed into party central.

"Excuse me," a young female voice interrupted my astonishment and I looked down.

A red-haired Munchkin, dressed in yellow, was smiling shyly up at me.

"My name's Mary," she introduced herself. "My sister's a Tall and, well, I thought maybe her clothes would fit you. Since yours are soiled."

_Huh?_

I looked down at myself and blushed. My shirt was stained brown from the toxic brew that Lauren had spilled on me and I was covered in dirt stains from lying on the shed floor. While it was proof that at some point I had in fact been at a party, it was proof of something else too. How could I be dreaming? I would not dream up such a fantastic place but leave myself in filthy clothes. No one in their right mind would.

I nodded in answer and her smile grew wide.

Her small hand wrapped around mine as she led me across the courtyard and down a blue cobblestone side street, to an olive green toadstool house. She opened the door and easily stepped inside, but I paused as I compared my size to the size of the house. The door was wide enough, but…

"I think if you just duck down a bit…" she suggested.

I ducked down, but quickly realized it still didn't solve my problem, so I sank down into a semi-crouch and let my feet shuffle forward. My cheeks flamed because I was suddenly hyperaware that I was waddling_._

The interior of the house was an improvement, the ceiling was higher than that of the door, and I stood up a little; my shoulders brushed against the ceiling so I was forced to keep my head bowed.

Mary smiled a satisfied smile as she observed me in her house.

"You can't begin to understand how much we appreciate you taking care of our problem," She spoke turning away from me and heading toward a hallway.

I followed her as carefully as I could.

_Taking care of our problem._ I knew she was talking about the dead witch outside and I felt a twinge of unease. It was like a Mafia movie.

_"What'da we do about our problem?"_

"_Take care of 'er."_

"_Yeah, I'll take care of her." Bada-bing. Bada-boom._

Except I didn't use cement shoes or illegal military grade automatics... I used a tool shed.

"The Wicked Witch of the East has been tormenting us for years. Of course the Good Witch does what she can, but… well, that's the problem with witchcraft isn't? One witch just can't undo another's spell. She can only cast a spell to counteract the one in place. And the Good Witch can't be here _all the time_, she has to have a life too." Mary clucked her tongue as if the idea of the Good Witch having a life of her own was preposterous.

She turned into a room on the left and gestured that I should follow her in.

My eyes widened with surprise. This room was the same size as the others, but appeared _smaller,_ if possible, because it was filled with Tall-sized furniture.

"Your sister won't mind me wearing her clothes?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think so," Mary reassured me, dragging a step stool over to the bureau. "She doesn't live here anymore. She and daddy had an argument… something about doorways? I wasn't really paying attention… but Victoria was always a bit prone to overreaction… Anywho, what do you think of this color?"

Mary turned from the drawer and held up a sleeveless, navy blue dress. I could tell it would be short on me, but it wasn't bad. The material looked soft and stretchy and I reached out to touch the fabric, to feel for myself. It was softer than it looked, like fleece, and the feel alone made me smile.

"You like it?" Mary probed hopefully.

"Yes, I like it."

She squealed at my acquiescence and nearly toppled off of the stool in her excitement. She grabbed me with one hand, keeping the dress in her other, and pulled me from the room and across the hall.

"You can clean up in here," she said sweetly. "I'll wait in the parlor. Take as much time as you need."

I flinched as the door slammed shut behind me and then sighed in relief. I didn't care that I was looking at the smallest toilet I had ever seen, I was just happy to find that the Munchkins had indoor plumbing. I hadn't realized it until this moment, when I found myself shut in a bathroom, but I really needed to pee.

I took care of business then I eyed the tiny bathtub. Instead of imposing more than I already was, I decided against bathing. Hopefully, the Good Witch would tell me how to get home and hygiene wasn't going to become an issue. I found a washcloth and washed the rum and coke residue from my body and cleaned the dirt from my face.

I pulled on the dress and bent to look into the mirror. I liked what I saw…sort of. The color looked good on me and the stretchy fabric clung in all the right places. But I frowned down at my feet realizing if I had been a few inches shorter, the dress would have hidden them from view. Instead my sneakers protruded from the dress like clown feet.

I shook my head in mock horror at my most recent train of thought.

I was somewhere called _Munchkinland_ and I was worried about what my clothes looked like? I had bigger problems than fashion.

I exited the bathroom and made my way to the parlor where Mary said she'd be waiting. She took one look at me in her sister's dress and began jittering like she was suffering from a unused caffeine high.

I breathed a sigh of relief as she led me from the too tiny house and back to the courtyard where the celebration had carried on in the absence of my presence. I blinked to let my eyes become accustomed to the color, because as impossible as it seemed, more Munchkins, Shorts & Talls alike, had arrived.

I spotted the Good Witch in her red dress immediately and laughed. She was dancing to the music with three small Munchkin children, who clung to the ruffles of her gown allowing her to swing them about. She caught my eye and gave a good natured smile.

"You should be careful," a cold voice pierced through the good humor that seemed to be shared by everyone but him.

I turned to look at Marcus.

"Excuse me?"

He gestured to the dress I was wearing.

"My people mean well, but you're the new shiny toy, and everyone's going to want you for themselves." He nodded his headed toward Mary, the Munchkin who had seemed so helpful, and I took note of her body language.

She was standing with several Munchkins speaking animatedly, but her body posture was something I'd seen among girls at my school. She was boasting. I looked down at my dress and at once understood what Marcus meant. Understood, what exactly Mary was boasting.

"Marcus!" Caius interrupted before I could form a response.

"Marcus, don't you think you should take care of her?"

I flinched, as my earlier inner monologue re-echoed in my head.

"Why? She's already dead, its not like she's going anywhere." Marcus's cold flat voice, stated a fact that made me flinch again, this time in horror.

Reflexively I turned to see for myself; the horse and carriage were still located by the tipped shed. The animal's head had been freed so he could graze the nearby grass as he pleased, but the carriage had moved with him… The Wicked Witch was still lying in the ditch, a sheet draped respectfully over her still form.

"You don't think it might be a little upsetting for the young ones?"

Marcus's eyes scanned the courtyard, appraising the crowd longer than necessary to make his point. The crowd of children around the Good Witch was growing. Another crowd had gathered around Cullen, who was doing doggy-summersaults to keep them entertained. None of the children had noticed the dead woman at the side of the road.

"Come now, Marcus, the sun is rising and-"

Marcus waved a hand to silence his small brother. "Caius, its not even noon. The body will keep. I'll move her before she rots. I'm having fun."

I would have cringed at the thought of a rotting body but was too baffled by the idea that this was Marcus _having fun_. What was he like when he wasn't having fun?

The music changed to a softer melody and people stopped dancing at once.

Marcus gave an un-Marcus like clap of excitement.

The crowd fluxed to make room for three women, dressed in gauzy pink tutus. They ghosted around the courtyard on tiptoes, leaping like deer at the slightest raise in tempo, and curling in on themselves as the music slowed. Each one carried a bouquet of remarkable pink blossoms in their right hands. The ballet dancers stopped in time with the music; the three of them looking at me.

One of the dancers, a slender blonde with a Botticelli face, approached.

"My name is Jane," she announced in the imperious voice of a child who thinks she knows more than the adults.

"This is Sissy, " She waved her left hand toward the Munchkin in question, "and this is Lil." Her flower holding hand swept toward Lil, then back towards me.

She sank down to one knee and offered the flowers to me. Sissy and Lil came forward, simultaneously mimicking Jane's pose, and offering up the flowers.

Keeping her head bowed respectfully Jane continued in her childishly, all knowing voice, "We are representatives of the Lullaby League, and in the name of the Lullaby League, we wish to welcome you to Munchkinland!"

I was slightly unsure of what was happening, but from the expressions on the faces of the other citizens of Munchkinland I understood that I was receiving some kind of honor. It soon became apparent that the Lullaby League representatives, had no intention of removing themselves from their swanlike poses until I accepted the flowers. As I took pink bouquets, the women unfolded themselves to another round of applause. They curtsied and tiptoed backwards and away as the music restarted.

This time the music was faster, louder, and three Munchkin men stomped rhythmically in. They too had traded in their cloaks for costumes, instead they wore neon plaid coveralls and shoes accessorized with bells. They jingled this way and that, keeping time with the music, pausing only to leapfrog over one another until they were lined up in front me.

The music stopped as all three men unzipped the upper half of their coveralls, revealing chiseled pectorals. A few women squealed with delight; I cringed inwardly. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something very wrong with men that size having bodies like that; it was like walking into a strip club and finding out what Mrs. Claus did once Christmas season was over and Santa still had bills to pay…

The young man in the middle reached into his coverall - eliciting more squeals - and pulled out… A lollipop? The two men on either side repeated his deft movement.

"My name is Alec," he said with a very macho salute, "These are my comrades, Oscar and Beans," both men saluted when their names were called, "and we represent the Lollipop Guild. In the name of the Lollipop Guild, we wish to welcome you to Munchkinland."

He bowed low, offering up the lollipop and the others did the same. I took the lollipops somewhat reluctantly, trying to ignore the girls pushing each other to get a better look at their upturned butts, and the crowd applauded again.

I eyed the candy wearily, vowing silently it would never pass my lips just on basic principle.

A small arm reached up and linked with mine, I glanced down the see Aro's smiling face.

"From now on, you'll be history," He declared, beaming up at me.

I smiled weakly.

Sure, the Munchkins knew how to throw a celebration. The music was fun, the food delicious, the ballerinas were graceful, although the strip tease was a little much for my tastes… I was flattered that they wanted to tell generations about the freaky foreigner who crushed the local tyrant with a tool shed like some vengeful Greek deity… But this wasn't my home.

And despite the beauty of this place, its not where I wanted to be.

I wanted to be home.

* * *

**Chapter Notes/Extras**:

1) In case anybody was curious, the movie shout out in chapter six was to **Vegas Vacation**. When the Griswald family takes the tour of the Hoover Dam.

Movie Dialogue:

_"I am your dam guide…please, no one wander off the dam tour and please take all the dam pictures you want. Now are there any dam questions?"_

_"Yeah, where can I get some damn bait?"_

My Dialogue:

_"Marcus fell in love with a Short. Didyme Short. She was the youngest Short daughter in the Short family."_

_"What did the Short father do?"_

See its funny 'cause Didyme Short was a short Munchkin…

2)"Oscar and Beans"

The names were a Freudian slip, I swear. I picked out Oscar after a character in another book, and I wanted something silly and Beans just popped in. It wasn't until I had already typed it that I noticed the names were innuendo-ish, but then I left it because I had fallen in love with the names Oscar and Beans.

3) Bella's dress will be posted on my blog, on the Over The Rainbow page, under extras, very soon, for those who like visual aides.

Reviews are greatly appreciated!


	8. The Way to the Wizard

**Disclaimer Update:** In addition to Stephanie Meyer and L. Frank Baum, I'm also crediting MGM Inc, for producing the movie from which I have borrowed quotes, and Gregory Maguire for _The Wicked Years_, a series that helped fill in the gaps.

* * *

I had been worried about how I would find a break in the commotion to ask the Good Witch how in the hell I should get home, but people seemed to be tiring themselves out. As cheerful and party-centric as the Munchkins were it seemed that their small size wouldn't allow them to keep it up for very long. I was also beginning to realize that their tiny livers could not process copious amounts of alcohol.

For the past five minutes, one of the Volturi Guardsmen had been eyeing me while he waited for his liquid courage to kick in. I'd been trying to ignore him while meandering closer to the Witch in what was turning out to be a futile attempt to get her attention, but it seemed he was ready to make his move.

He swaggered toward me, stumbling on the hem of his gray cloak as he came. But he took the trip in stride, winking playfully at me as if the misstep was meant to be flirtatious. He stood before me at an impressive three foot four, holding his military stance, to better display his broad shoulders.

"M' lady," he said while taking my hand in his, "Felix, at your service."

He touched his lips to the back of my hand. I was too stunned at his audacity to pull away. Was this really happening? Was a man short enough to stand comfortably under the belly of Shetland pony, really hitting on me?

"Dance with me, Darling?"

_Darling_?

I was horrified, stunned, and amused.

I felt an extra set of eyes on me and looked up.

Marcus was watching me with his haunted gaze; a knowing smirk playing on his thin lips.

Felix was oblivious; when I didn't answer he decided for me. He grabbed my other hand and whisked me out to where the other Munchkins were dancing. He was attempting to lead me and my two left feet in a strange, fast paced waltz. I stepped on his feet multiple times, but he seemed too drunk to feel the pain of it or too polite to point it out. He changed his arm position, trying to bring me closer to him. But suddenly his left hand was resting on my…_upper thigh._

His face burst scarlet before mine could. He removed his hand and placed it back in mine. I would have slapped him. But it occurred to me he was probably aiming for my lower back… He just couldn't _reach_.

Uncomfortable was the new understatement.

I was trying to figure out a polite way of ending the dance between me and the Guardsman, when a noise shattered the jovial atmosphere. There was a sharp blast; like that of shotgun, but louder, magnified to triple the volume. An explosion of orange and blue flame appeared seemingly from nowhere on the edge of the courtyard.

Screams of terror ripped through the air as the small people of Munchkinland threw themselves flat. The soldiers, Felix included, sobered immediately and ran to the Volturi family, forming a protective formation around the brothers and their wives.

Cullen appeared at my feet, barking energetically in the silence that followed the explosion and I pulled his tense body into my arms. As I straightened, the Good Witch was moving swiftly, the glossy fabric of her gown swishing against the brick. She placed herself in front of me and trained her eyes on the flames that leapt without warning from the brick road.

I looked back to the explosion and nearly dropped the dog with my shock. Purple smoke still curled skyward, but the fire had gone.

In place of the flame stood a tall, statuesque woman, surveying the village with all the haughty confidence of a predatory bird. Her dress, a mix of black lace and coal gray fabric, twisted around her elegantly curved body like a cyclone trying to swallow her whole. The dress was low cut and sleeveless; but fingerless gloves and lace stockings covered the expanse of what would otherwise have been naked skin. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, billowing in the gentle breeze like the purple smoke that was slowly clearing.

Her eyes began roving around the courtyard but her body remained frozen in place. Calmly, her eyes glanced over those trembling on the ground not pausing or delaying in the slightest, as if she got this reaction all the time and it was to be expected. Her eyes hesitated on the Volturi family; they and their bodyguards had managed to keep their feet. She raised one slim eyebrow in challenge or question, I couldn't tell. But when they made no move to approach her, her eyes moved on. She looked at the Good Witch in her shimmering gown and for a brief moment, pure, undisguised contempt crossed her cool expression. Then her eyes landed on me. She looked at me with curiosity for a half a second and then continued her impressively silent search.

Then the fierce beauty caught sight of the funerary wagon. Her perfect face twisted and transformed. Wordlessly, she strode down the road; the heavy heels of her shoes knocking against the brick making the first sounds since the screaming had stopped. It didn't take long for her long legs to carry her to the scene of the crime.

She crouched down, peeked under the sheet, and briskly stood up.

Her eyes alighted on Marcus.

She stared him down.

He stared unashamedly back.

She approached him; the guards stood taller attempting to obscure the entire five foot anomaly that was Marcus Volturi, from her view. She slowed her approach as if she thought that would make the hostility that was emanating off of her, less threatening.

"Marcus Volturi!" She snapped.

He nodded his head to acknowledge her but said nothing.

She took a deep breath, allowing the cool façade she had worn earlier to slip back into place.

"You're the coroner in this county, are you not?" Her face may have betrayed no emotion, but her voice was sharp edged and ice-cold.

Marcus nodded again. His silence seemed to irritate her further.

"Do you treat all your charges like this?" She gestured to the dead body.

Marcus looked at the corpse, like he was seeing it for the first time. Then he looked the scary blond straight in the eye and said, "Only the dead ones."

If his indifference angered her she didn't show it.

"Who killed my sister?" She hissed at him.

"There," he said, like it was obvious, and pointed.

I would have shrunk away in horror and guilt except he hadn't pointed at me.

The woman spun about to follow the direction of his accusing finger.

_The shed._

"The culprit is there," he re-affirmed.

She whirled back to face him.

"The shed?"

I don't think two one syllable words had ever been spoken slower.

"Do you mean to tell me that a _shed,_ _murdered my sister?"_

"Murder is a harsh word," he replied. "As an inanimate object, I doubt it was truly capable of well designed premeditation. I mean to say, that it was more a matter of _durability_."

She reached up and rubbed her temples.

She looked at Aro, who was trying to imitate Marcus's brave stature and failing miserably. I saw the grin she suppressed as she weeded out the weakest link.

"Aro Volturi," she called in a poisonous croon. "That shed is not native architecture. Where is it from?"

"I don't know," he said, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"But surely you know who summoned it?"

"I do not."

I let out a sigh of relief… Relief that was short lived.

"And yet…" she spoke while turning slowly. "There is a stranger among you."

She looked straight at me.

"You there!" She barked. "Perhaps you could clear this matter up."

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

She stalked toward me and stopped about ten feet away.

"What's your name?"

"Tell her nothing." The Good Witch whispered to me.

"Stay out of this! This has nothing to do with you!"

The Good Witch laughed. "Careful, m'dear. The hand that stirs the cauldron is most often the one burned when the potion bubbles over."

"Did you kill my sister?"

"No!" I shouted. I hadn't… But I guess in a way, I had… "Please, it was just an accident!"

"An accident? You call dropping a tool shed on my sister an accident? How does one accidentally drop an object of that magnitude?"

That was the winning question, wasn't it?

"I don't know! It just… It just happened. It was an accident; I didn't mean to kill anyone!"

"Well, my pretty, I can cause accidents too, and-"

"Aren't you forgetting the ruby slippers?" The Good Witch interrupted.

This seemed to distract the woman.

"The slippers…" She murmured.

She walked away, without a second look at me, toward the body of the Wicked Witch of the East. What ever she was hoping to find under the sheet was not there; that much was apparent from her howl of outrage.

"What have you done with them?" She shrieked.

She forced her wrathful gaze on the Good Witch who seemed altogether unperturbed.

"Give them back!" She roared.

"There they are," she answered pointing downwards, "and there they'll stay."

I followed her finger down and a small cry of horror escaped my throat as I realized that my sneakers were gone. In there place, on my feet, were now what looked to be ruby covered ballet flats. I moved a foot forward an inch to view them better. Out from under the shade of my borrowed dress, the slipper glittered violently in the sun.

I was so shocked at this new development I hadn't noticed the Witch approaching until Cullen began snarling softly from the sanctuary of my arms.

"Give them back," she hissed. "There of no use to you. You don't know how to use them."

"Don't you dare take those off," the Good Witch counter commanded. "There magic must be very powerful or she wouldn't want them so badly."

"I'll not tell you again; stay out of what doesn't concern you!"

"Or what?" The Good Witch laughed again. "You have no power here or you'd have forced those shoes from her feet already!"

A loud growl came from the aggressive woman's throat.

"Be gone!" The Good Witch waved a hand. "Before someone drops a shed on you as well!"

The blonde's eyes flicked skyward and she flinched.

She gave another wordless shriek and then glared daggers at me.

"Just try to stay out of my way, just try," She sneered. "I'll get you my pretty and your little dog too!"

The bang that followed popped my ears and left them ringing, as the stranger left the same way she appeared; in an ominous cloud of blue and orange flame and purple poisonous looking smoke.

There was silence until the smoke had gone and the Good Witch spoke.

"Rise up. She's gone. You're safe."

Slowly the Munchkins began picking themselves off the ground, but the jovial atmosphere was not coming back. Panicked mothers collected their children and began whisking them away. Marcus barked something at his colleagues and they hurried off down the lane to begin taking care of the remains.

"Who was that?" I finally asked.

"That was the Wicked Witch of the West. The Black Rose of the Vinkus." The Good Witch turned to look at me. "I'm afraid you've made a very bad enemy as she's far worse than her sister. The best thing for you to do is to return home."

"Regardless, you can't stay here!" Caius Volturi was glaring at me.

"But-" I began but he cut me off.

"We only just got rid of one Witch; we don't need the other to take her place. If she wants you, then you can't be here!"

I wanted to point out that he wouldn't have gotten rid of the first witch if it wasn't for me, but it seemed like poor timing all things considered.

"I'd go home if I could, but I don't know how! Its not like I can just return the way I came!"

"Have you tried?" Caius asked.

"Have I-"

"Stop this."

I looked incredulously at the Good Witch.

"Obviously we don't intend for you to try to pilot the shed home. And you cannot be allowed to stay within Munchkinland. The best thing for you, would be to head to the Emerald City and seek and audience with the Wizard of Oz."

At her declaration a wave of whispered voices rippled through the crowd.

"The Wizard of Oz?" I asked.

"He lives in the Emerald City. He's very wise and very powerful. He'll know how to get you home."

"How do I get there?" I asked.

"I find it's always best to start at the beginning."

"The beginning of what?"

She laughed. "The yellow brick road, of course! It will take you right to where you need to be. Just start at the beginning and follow the yellow brick road."

The Munchkins were getting excited again.

I could hear various cheers of: "Follow the yellow brick road!" and "Start at the beginning!" and "To the Wonderful Wizard of Oz!"

Small hands tugged gently at my dress and pushed and prodded me to the tip of brick at the center of the courtyard. This was madness. Did they really intend for me to follow the spiral? Wouldn't it be simpler to walk straight to the mouth of the road?

I turned to ask the Witch what the point was, but there was no Witch. Instead a bright red bubble floated on the air shrinking with time and distance.

Someone shoved a basket in my hand and the scent of fresh bread wafted up at me. But before I could thank whoever had handed me the basket they were pushing at me again.

"You're off to see the Wizard!" They cheered.

I followed the spiral as it seemed to please them, growing more confused with each revolution. I wasn't sure where I was going and only that I knew I wanted to get home. The Munchkins were certain; the yellow brick road would lead me to the Wizard, the Wizard could take me home. Once home, I was sure I'd never leave again.

* * *

_I apologize for the hideous wait. Thank you for your patience._

_The outfit of the Wicked Witch of the West should be on my blog soon._


	9. The Yellow Brick Road

The Munchkins followed me all the way to the boundary line of the city before wishing me a safe journey and letting me continue alone. I had asked them how long until I reached the Emerald City, but they just laughed and bowed and waved, some saying what they thought were words of wisdom, something about the length of my legs and the speed of their travel… It was annoying really. Would it have killed them to give me a rough estimate?

I was glad when they stopped following if for no other reason than I was left alone to stew.

So I kept walking.

And walking.

And walking.

The problem I was beginning to notice was the Munchkins made it sound like this Emerald City was a big place. The kind of place that was hard not to notice. The problem was the more I walked, the more I realized the yellow brick road was taking me into farm country. From the looks of thing, it was all farm country and nothing remotely city like lay ahead of me.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.

I mean, had they answered any of my questions?

Let's start with the dude who helped drag me out of the shed. Who was he? Where was he? Why hadn't he stepped forward and introduced himself once he realized I wasn't a threat?

Where was I in general? They threw around names like Oz and Munchkinland and the Emerald City, but I had never heard of these places before. Did my subconscious create this place? But no, with each step I took away from the beginning, the muscles in my legs ached a little bit more with fatigue. This couldn't be a dream. It was too real.

How could this place be real? Witches and Wizards and Little People who feuded over height differentials? Had the world fallen into madness, or had I?

I looked down at my feet and stopped walking.

There they were.

Ruby slippers just magically placed on my feet without my knowledge or consent and now the Wicked Witch of the West wanted my head on a silver platter. Who gave the Good Witch permission to do that? Shouldn't she have had the grace to ask if I wanted to travel through Munchkinland in stolen footwear taken from a dead chick?

I looked up and around.

To my left, a flawless green pasture sprawled out for a vast expanse; the land was speckled with a herd of cows grazing comfortably on the lush growth. A fence, pristine and white, bordered the road, keeping them from scattering, not that they appeared to have the need to scatter. Separate from the herd, a young heifer near the fence watched me. Her big brown eyes looked at me with more knowledge than I wanted them to have. I removed my eyes from her curious expression.

To my right, there was a stark contrast to the green fields. Instead, waves of golden wheat undulated in the gentle wind. No fence was needed to contain this crop. It grew in a straight line as if an invisible ruler was keeping it from threatening the sunny yellow brick.

A bark drew my attention away from the wheat crop and back to the heifer.

Cullen stood on our side of the fence barking up at the cow. She peered down at him and then gave a lazy blink.

"Cullen," I growled his name out.

He ignored me and yapped a little more, his tail curling over his back and wagging furiously as his excitement grew.

"Cullen, stop it, you'll scare her."

A strange sound came out of the cow then, a low musical lilt reverberating in her chest. Her big brown eyes met mine only her were filled with amusement where mine were filled with confusion.

"That little thing, scare me?" she said.

Cullen stopped barking but his tail continued to wave.

I dropped the basket that I had all but forgotten. The basket clattered onto the stone, an assortment of baked goods rolling out. I dropped to my hands and knees and dismissed my insanity as heatstroke.

Cows didn't talk. Or laugh.

That knowledge didn't stop my hands from shaking with fear when that same female voice interrupted my cleaning. "Is that apple spice muffin I smell?"

"I haven't had apple spice since the farmer decided to celebrate Daisy's tenth birthday. And that was ages ago."

I looked up at the cow.

She was looking at me hopefully…

No.

She was not looking at me _hopefully_. She did not look at Cullen _curiously_.

She was a cow.

Cows didn't emote.

Cows didn't laugh.

They certainly didn't _speak_.

But she was still speaking, this time to Cullen. "I say, is something wrong with you're companion? She looks quite ill."

No. No, she was not speaking to Cullen. Cows don't speak.

"Ignore the cow, Bella, and find some shade. The cow is not talking to you…" I mumbled to myself.

"Common misconception, my dear. While cows don't speak, Cows often do, although some of us choose not to… Why are you backing away? You don't have to share your muffin you know; it was just a suggestion…"

I grabbed my basket in one arm and my dog in the other and hauled ass. I was not about to stand around slipping further into insanity discussing the difference between cows and Cows with a cow or Cow… Jesus Christ, where was I?

I ran as hard as I could for as long as I could, desperate to put as much distance between me and the cow pastures and my hallucinations as I could.

When I ran out of breath and energy, I collapsed on a grassy bank and held Cullen tightly to my heaving chest. For a moment, I rocked my weight back and forth and then I cried. I buried my face into Cullen's soft fur and sobbed into his sturdy little body. I took comfort in the fact that I wasn't alone in this…whatever this was exactly. Cullen was _real._ No matter what craziness I encountered here, I knew that Cullen was real.

Real meant safe.

When my heart stopped pounding I released the little dog. I sunk my fingers into the grass and made fists, tearing up the earth. Cullen watched me with his topaz eyes; waiting.

"Where are we?" I yelled at him. "I want to go home!"

He climbed back into my lap and whimpered.

"Useless mutt," I grumbled.

Another whimper and I instantly felt guilty. This mess wasn't his fault. I reached out and stroked his head for a minute. Then I gathered my courage and looked around at my new surroundings.

I was still in farm country, but gone were the wheat and cows, now I seemed to be surrounded by cornfields. The stalks loomed threateningly over the yellow brick road, casting threatening shadows. One shadow, in particular stood out.

At first glance it looked like the shadow of a crucifixion and my first instinct was to throw up. But I remembered the wolf on the night of the carnival and calmed myself. A shadow meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Shadows lie.

I turned, following the shadow back to the object creating it…

My stomach lurched and my throat tightened and I tasted the bile rising into my mouth. Because this time, it seemed, the gruesome shadow wasn't a lie. Above the corn rows was another horror. A man in a pale shirt wearing a dark sunhat was tied to a tall wooden cross. His face, eerily familiar, was tilted down at me, dark in the shadow of his hat's brim.

Then sense hit me.

A scarecrow. This was a cornfield. Cornfields had scarecrows. This scarecrow looked frighteningly human, but nobody would be so callous this day in age to bind a living person to a cross.

The relief of what I was witnessing made me switch from nausea to laughter. I was glad the dog was the only other living creature around. I must have looked like I was caught in the throes of hysteria; truth be told, I was.

I straightened up and re-observed my surroundings. My stomach clenched nervously as I took in the new problem threatening to cancel out my relief.

I stepped down on to the brick road. I looked down the path I had just been traveling. Then I turned slowly, putting the past way to my back.

The yellow brick road _forked_.

"Crap."

Nobody had said anything about a fork in the road.

"Which way do we go?"

"Pardon me, but that way is a very nice way."

I froze at the male voice that came not from besides or behind, but from above.

Yup. I was definitely going to vomit this time. No stopping it.

His voice continued on despite my distress. "Not that there is anything wrong with the other way. People do go both ways."

I looked up at the scarecrow.

The one that was giving me advice.

Looked down at the grass.

Puked.

* * *

_This chapter was short but I'm pretty sure ch. 10 will be long. The "cow vs Cow" thing is a Gregory Maguire creation that I thought was too good not to add in._

_Please review! _


	10. The Scarecrow

I don't remember fainting, but I must have. The insides of my eyelids were unusually dark considering the sunny climate, so I guessed that I was laying in the shade of the cornstalks. I could hear a faint, rhythmic _whoosh_ sound, and realized a bit belatedly that a steady breeze was keeping time with the sound. I opened my eyes a smidge to see what was happening.

The first thing I noticed was a shock of copper hair shimmering above sun tanned skin. He was looking away from me, so my eyes opened completely taking in the sight of his strong jaw, flexing with stress. He was fanning me with-

I gasped as I recognized the black sunhat.

He looked at me then and the most somber eyes I'd ever seen, colored a startling shade of green, observed my face with relief.

I backed away from him until my back hit the thick row of corn.

He put his hands up in silent supplication to show me he meant no harm. The solemn gaze trained on me was unnerving; his eyes, simultaneously sharp and blank, made me feel vulnerable and exposed. Like instead of looking at me, he was seeing through me, to a secret I didn't know existed until now.

"Are you okay?" In contrast to his invasive stare, his voice was filled with a warmth that timidly wrapped around me like a worn blanket.

I relaxed and tried to reconcile the facts. Yes, this stranger was wearing the exact same outfit as the scarecrow. No, he was not an animated inanimate object. Yes, he was human. No, he wasn't short.

"I think so," I answered. "What happened?"

"I don't know," he said. "You looked at me, vomited, stumbled three steps to the left, and fainted."

"Oh." _At least I didn't faint into my stomach contents…_

"I thought you were a scarecrow…" I mumbled, but this seemed to confuse him.

"I am," he said, jamming the hat back on his head. "Why would that frighten you?"

His response was confusing.

"What do you mean you're a scarecrow?"

"Siobhan's last Scarecrow retired. She was desperate enough to hire me so long as I stayed in the corn and didn't cause trouble. It can be very tedious spending the day with a pole at my back but there aren't many employers willing to hire someone with my…disability. This was all that would have me and the pay is decent enough."

He just confused me more.

"Siobhan?"

His eyes stayed steady on my face and then he seemed to recognize something. "You're not from around here are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Siobhan O'Taffy is known throughout Munchkinland for her corn. Everyone in Munchkinland knows her and her husband Liam. He's a merchant."

"I'm not from Munchkinland."

"Why are you afraid of Scarecrows?"

"I'm not afraid of…" I shook my head to clear it. "Where I'm from, the Scarecrows don't move because they aren't human. It's usually a large doll made from straw…"

He gave a small chuckle and his eyes brightened a little at the humor. "A doll made out of straw? How does that scare away crows?"

I opened my mouth to tell him it made perfect sense, but stopped myself. The few times I ventured out of Forks and passed by farmlands, the crows never did seem too troubled by the straw man keeping guard.

"I don't know," I admitted with a laugh.

Then something else occurred to me. "We haven't been properly introduced have we? My name's Bella Swan."

"Nice to meet you Bella Swan," he replied.

I waited for him to offer his information and the moment grew awkward when it never came.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said, the light left his eyes and the somberness returned.

"You don't know your own name?"

"No, normally people just call me whatever they like. And they don't like me enough to call me something normal."

I frowned now. In the time that we'd been speaking, I had gotten the impression that he was perfectly nice, if a little morose and vague. Why wouldn't other people like him? And who doesn't know their own name?

"Surely your parents gave you a name?"

He shrugged. "Once they learned of my wrongness they decided I was not worthy of a name."

Then his face fell further. "They didn't want me," he explained; his voice soft and his eyes downcast, "I was born with a terrible affliction and they didn't want me. Once word spread of my disability, nobody else wanted me either."

This revelation held me captivated. Although I had never imagined myself as a mother, I couldn't think of any disability bad enough to force a parent to walk away from their own child. I couldn't imagine what this young man suffered from that his own family didn't think he was worthy of being named.

"I was born with Backwards Thought." He supplied the name of his so called affliction and tensed his body as he waited for a reaction. But if he was expecting me to cringe away in disgust, he was going to be disappointed. It wasn't a disease I'd ever heard of and, to be honest, it sounded made up.

He sighed when he realized I didn't understand. "I was born with an ability to hear everyone's thoughts but my own."

I didn't understand, but before I could ask he was explaining.

"I never think. From the day I was born I had this… _babbling_ inside my head. It got clearer as I aged; the babble became words, sounding in hundreds of voices that weren't my own. When I began answering questions that hadn't been asked out loud…" the Scarecrow shook his head. "It's not right, you see. To be able to hear the thoughts of others. I'm not right.'

"Then one day I overheard the Wicked Witch of the East thinking something and I made a comment on it… It was unwise to make a disparaging comment to Lorelle, so it's really my own fault, but she placed a curse on me to make me forget. She removed my brain."

I laughed at the last statement.

_How can he talk if he hasn't got a brain?_

"Some people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don't they?"

Lauren's face flashed before my eyes and I had to agree, but-

My spine stiffened as I picked up on a new surprise... I hadn't asked that question out loud.

"Anyways, you're being too literal," he continued, either unaware of my discomfort or too used to the reaction to care. "She removed all of my memories up until that point… I couldn't remember how to get home. And home never came looking for me. And the curse damaged what little thinking I could do. I'm not so great with decisions. Or directions. Or time. I lose time easily. And I'm not real bright about doing things."

"Sometimes I wonder if Lorelle ever died, would my memory return?" He looked pensive and slightly hopeful; I didn't have the heart to break the news to him. Lorelle had been dead for the majority of the day and his memory was still failing.

"How'd she die?" he asked.

I gasped again.

Here I was, sitting in a cornfield in a fantasy world talking to a mind-reading, nameless, scarecrow. In the interest of my own sanity, I needed to remember that this place was not Forks.

"I dropped a tool shed on her," I whispered.

"Good for you," he said simply.

I shrugged awkwardly. It isn't like I did it on purpose.

"You must have great power to lift something so large by accident."

I snapped at his assumption.

"I don't have any power!" I yelled. "I'm as much a victim as she is! All I did was hide in a shed! And suddenly I am here! Why does everyone keep assuming I'm a witch?"

If the Scarecrow was bothered but my outburst, he didn't show it.

"Well, I'm not one for thinking, as you've already been informed, but if I could think accurately, I would think everyone thinks you're a witch because you travel with a Familiar."

A loud snarl burst forth from Cullen; his hackles raised and his lips curled and his body lunged slightly forward, threatening the man beside me.

"Cullen!" I yelled. "Bad dog! What's gotten into you?"

"It would seem he doesn't want you to know what he is."

"What?" I asked, tearing my attention back to the man beside me. "He who?"

"Cullen. He's very upset with me for telling you the truth."

"What?" I asked and then I understood, partially anyways. "Wait, do you mean you can hear the thoughts of _dogs_?"

He shook his head. "_Familiars_, I can hear the thoughts of Familiars." He pointed at Cullen who was glaring with unmistakable spite at the Scarecrow and continued, "_That_ is not a dog. That is a Familiar. And in truth, they are not so different from humans."

I looked at Cullen.

"What the hell is a Familiar?"

"A spirit guide. They are attracted to those with power. This one seems very fond of you," he explained patiently and then looked back at Cullen. "It's not polite to lie."

Suddenly the air was filled with a crackling sound, like static electricity, and Cullen began shivering from head to toe. The air thrummed with an energy that made the back of my neck prickle. Cullen's back arched, his body grew larger; his blonde hair receded while the black hair grew heavier and solidified until it was no longer hair…

I backed away, again stopping when the corn prevented me from making an easy escape. I watched in horror as Cullen's body transformed from mutant dog, into something else entirely.

When the static died, a man crouched where Cullen had crouched. A man with a sharp face and golden hair and a black suit. A man with kindly topaz eyes set in an irritated expression.

"And it's not polite to trespass in someone else's mind." His voice was smooth, clear and musical, not so different from a dog's voice.

But he was no dog.

And yet… Wasn't he _my_ dog?

And that voice. I knew that voice. That was the voice that was the one that greeted me when I first arrived…

_"Don't move," a male voice instructed… My eyes fluttered open as I struggled to catch a glimpse of the mystery man._

"You!" I gasped. "It was you in the shed!"

"Now, please don't panic-"

"How? I don't understand… Did you bring me here to this place? You've been _this_ this whole time?"

"You have it a little backwards. _You_ brought _me_ here. And yes, I helped you from the shed. As a Familiar, it is my job to watch out for your well being."

_"Is that the witch?" she asked, pointing at Cullen. "He seems like a likely candidate."_

The Good Witch of the North… "And the Good Witch? She knew, too, didn't she?"

"She suspected," Cullen, if that was his real name, shrugged. "However, _she_ had the good sense to keep her nose out of issues that didn't concern her." He shot another look at the unapologetic Scarecrow, but his eyes were too honest to convey the annoyance.

Maybe not that honest.

"I changed in front of you!" My arms wrapped protectively around myself, as I remembered stripping down the night of the carnival in front of what I had thought was a dog.

He shrugged. "So? I'm a Familiar. Matters of the flesh concern me little. The spirit, that's the part that matters to me."

I felt violated.

"I don't care!" I screamed.

"Well, now you're just being unreasonable!" he said, sounding affronted.

"I'm unreasonable? I gave you a place to live and fed you and you, you… You _peeped_!"

"I did not _peep_!" his voice rose in pitch too. "And for the record, who told you to get naked? I may have pretended to be a dog, but I never pretended to be a _blind_ dog."

"What!" _This little freak watches me undress, sleeps in my bed, pisses on my father's jacket and I'm the one at fault?_

But Cullen, remaining in his crouch, straightened the lapels of his suit jacket before answering more calmly.

"Bella, we do have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with. It's my job to guide you to where you need to be."

All thoughts of privacy violation flew out of my head at that.

"You can get me home?" If he could get me home, he could pee on any jacket he wanted.

"Yes and no," Cullen answered, reaching up and scratching his ear. "I can get you to where you need to be in order for you to get yourself home."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I have the power to guide you, but not to transform you. If you want to go home, it'll take some effort on your part. I have many abilities; I can heal, mentor, protect, but above all I am a _guide_. Your decisions must remain your own."

Cullen smiled a toothy smile at me and I flinched backwards in surprise more than fear; his smile was still the sharp toothed smile of a canid. A dog's teeth inside a human mouth?

"Like a human," the Scarecrow reminded us of his presence by speaking again. "I said Familiars were like humans not that they were…"

_Oh_. He was answering my thoughts again.

"In any matter," Cullen continued, "we should continue to the Emerald City, to seek council with the Wizard. He may be able to provide assistance. The Good Witch was right about one thing; with Westward Witch's new interest in us, we'd be safer if we could get out of Oz altogether.

"I'd do anything to get out of Oz altogether…"

The Scarecrow cleared his throat loudly.

"Pardon me, but… You're going to see a Wizard?"

I nodded my head.

"Do you think if I saw the Wizard, he'd give me my mind back?"

"Magic doesn't work like that," Cullen answered, "One Magician can't undo the spell of another."

"Oh." The Scarecrow stared down at his slender fingers as he twisted and untwisted them on his lap. His handsome face looked so withdrawn as he eyed his hands like he'd never seen them before. For a second I wondered what he was thinking about and then realized I didn't have to wonder all that hard.

We were both lost.

The difference being that I could remember where I had been lost from.

His eyes darted to my face and he shrugged his shoulders.

"I just figured… If I could at least remember where I was from… Maybe the reason they never came looking for me was because they can't find me either…"

My heart broke for him and the words were out of my mouth before I had thought the ramifications through.

"You could come with us if you wanted to."

A light flickered behind his eyes, but like a weak candle flame it was easily extinguished.

"No," he said. "I can't intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding. Maybe the Wizard could help you… and if he can't then you'd be no worse off than you are now…"

"You really wouldn't mind? I promise I won't try to manage things, but my disability is often a burden to others-"

"Your _ability_ won't be a burden. If the Scarecrows where I'm from could read minds, they'd be invaluable." I hesitated as I thought of the enraged Wicked Witch of the West and her threat against me.

"Although," I spoke slowly, making sure I held his attention, "you might want to reconsider traveling with me. I've got a witch mad at me and you might get into trouble."

The Scarecrow snorted. "A witch. What more could she take from me? The clothes on my back? They're all I have left."

The Scarecrow leapt from the grassy bank and onto the brick road. He swept his hat off his head once again and pointed it at me.

"I'll accompany you to the Wizard. I'm not afraid of witches, not anymore. The only thing I'm afraid of is a lighted match…" he put his hat back on and continued with another frown, "…although I can't quite remember why that is."

"_Grrr_reat." Cullen growled the word through his strange teeth. He shook his head but his expression spoke of acceptance. "If you're determined to come Scarecrow, you better let your Masters know you're abandoning your post."

The Scarecrow nodded his head and, without another word, he darted through the corn. I listened to the sounds of his passage through the field until I could no longer hear him. Then I turned my eyes back to Cullen who was staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

His lips parted to speak, but he hesitated before saying, "I can't travel in this form."

Then before I could object, the air was filled with the crackle and hum of energy, and Cullen was shrinking, cloth returning to fur, the gold hair reclaiming the majority of his shape… He was a dog again.

And as I heard the heavy cornstalks swishing from the Scarecrow's return, I couldn't help but think that that wasn't quite what Cullen had wanted to tell me.

When the Scarecrow burst out of the corn his face was flushed, his chest was heaving with exertion. His eyes looked relieved to see we were still waiting for him and it occurred to me he expected us to leave without him.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

He nodded and for the first time he gave a real smile.

I couldn't help myself from thinking that a smile like that outshone the sun itself.

He blushed and dropped his gaze back to his feet and I blushed in response as I remembered he could hear my thoughts.

After a moment of debate about which side of the split road to follow, we continued on our journey up the yellow brick road and out of Munchkinland.

* * *

_I told you Cullen would be special, didnt I?_

_And before you think I've invented a non-Twilight character, let me assure you, Cullen is indeed from Twilight. If you need a hint, he is the only member of the Cullen coven who DIDN'T get a walk on role in chapters 1-4._

_Extras will appear on blog shortly._

_Please review._


	11. The Guardian

Eventually the path we were on sloped upward toward a tree line that began on the crest of the hill. The slant was gradual, at first I barely took notice of the ever-increasing elevation. Then as gravity began to draw more energy from my aching muscles, I began panting with the exertion.

As we climbed, the light began changing. I had no watch to tell me the time, but I was certain noon had long since passed and night was coming closer. I knew once we got to the top of the hill I'd be out of energy, so I silently prayed to whatever deity ruled my fantasy world, for us to finish our climb by nightfall, and seek some sort of shelter under the trees.

When we finally reached the top, I groaned with relief and dropped to the ground.

The Scarecrow laughed. "You don't get out much do you?"

I didn't even attempt to meet his eyes as embarrassment crept in. I was out of shape and I could admit that. Gym class at Forks High wasn't exactly boot camp, and it rained so much hiking trips were usually canceled ten minutes in. Moreover, for a small town located near a mountain range, the local geographic was surprisingly flat, but that could also be that the town did not take up much space. Even so, I thought I was carrying on pretty well. I wasn't complaining about the excess of exercise and this was the first time we stopped since we broke for lunch.

The Scarecrow looked repentant. "I didn't offend you did I? I don't think before I speak so if I misspoke-"

I raised my hand to stop his worrying; I wasn't offended.

I turned around to stare back the way we had just come from and gasped in awe.

The beauty of what I was now looking at had me back on my feet in an instant.

The sun was a spark of molten gold on the horizon, giving off a platinum flare that licked the nearest clouds, infusing them with white brilliance and coral colored contrasts. The contrasts faded into lavender haze that blended into a deepening indigo sea. Stars of gleaming silver and twinkling turquoise stared down at me from the beginnings of the night sky. I had never seen such brilliance from a setting sun.

The landscape was just as impressive. The fields of crops and livestock all seemed to be emitting an amber luminescence that stretched out for miles, with gentle rolling hills and flat valleys in between. From this vantage point, I could see tiny clusters of structures - towns and villages - and several winding waterways that mirrored the sky as they parted the fields of green and amber. It was stunning.

"You see that steeple?" The Scarecrow pointed into the distance.

It wasn't hard to distinguish which town he was point to… Only one of the towns had a steeple.

"That's Munchkin City, capitol of Munchkinland," he told me.

This awed me further as I eyed the vast distance between my location on the apex of the hill and the steeple in the center of the town where I'd begun my journey.

Had I really traveled so far?

Behind me, I heard the crackle of static and knew Cullen's shape was changing again. But even the oddity of a dog transforming into a sharp-toothed man couldn't move me now.

"I take it we're making camp?" Cullen asked.

I nodded silently and lowered myself back to the ground to watch the sunset. The Scarecrow settled down beside me. Cullen left us but I didn't worry. I could hear him walking about in the woods, doing what I didn't bother to imagine.

The light show was splendid, but it couldn't last. The sun dipped below the land, leaving a flawless star filled sky behind and allowing a crescent moon to take center stage.

I stood up, intending to go find Cullen, but froze in surprise as the Scarecrow's hand shot out and grabbed my ankle in a steel grip. His long fingers wrapped around me like vice, tight and unforgiving and unyielding…

"Hey, let go!" I yelled.

I would have continued to yell but then I noticed his body language. It wasn't just his hand; every muscle in his body was tensed and frozen. His skin had paled slightly and perspiration made an appearance on his brow. His green eyes were widened in unmistakable fear.

"Scarecrow?" I asked, quietly.

His nostrils were slightly flared and he inhaled slowly.

It was then I caught sight of the small orange glow in the trees, controlled but also unmistakable. It was then the breeze drifted toward us, carrying with it the warm, heavy scent of wood smoke. I saw the small lupine figure stretched out before the flames and realized Cullen had been making a camp, just off the trail, complete with campfire.

"Scarecrow, it's just a small campfire," I murmured.

His grip tightened and I bit my lip to keep from calling out as the sharp pain lanced across my ankle.

"I don't like fire."

"You need to let go of me," I hissed.

His eyes snapped to my face and a look of horror transformed his face as he caught the pain on mine.

He released me like I was an electric eel.

"I hurt you!"

I shrugged. "It's fine. Let's go warm up."

I stepped off the road and headed into the woods toward the flames but stopped when I realized I was alone.

I turned and looked back where he stood, alone on the brick pathway, trembling.

The air temperature was dropping rapidly without the sun to maintain the heat, and the fire promised warmth. But he wasn't moving, and I felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving him alone in the dark on the side of the road.

"Please?" I asked.

He said nothing. He just stood there. And so I was forced to stand, torn between the desire for my own comfort and the guilt over his.

Finally he moved toward me, slowly, with unsteady steps.

I turned and headed toward the fire sure that he was following now.

Cullen had been busy while we were watching the sunset. He had managed to collect firewood and piled it nearby, along with having had the time to create a small circle of stones to keep the fire contained. I cringed with more guilt; he had done all the work.

I sat down next to the fire and closed my eyes for a moment as my face was bathed in heat. The tinder crackled as the fire burned and a hum of relaxation escaped my throat; there was something oddly peaceful about the sound and I hadn't had much peace today.

I heard the ruffling of clothes and my eyes snapped open.

The Scarecrow clearly didn't agree with my assessment of the fire. He picked a tree by the edge of the clearing, leaned against it and slid down to the ground. He was within sight, but barely so. The light of the small fire couldn't reach him; he was just an unmoving silhouette braced against the tree. His arms were crossed tight against his chest - for warmth or protection? - and his hat had tipped forward over his face but he made no move to fix its position.

I looked at Cullen, in his animal form again.

"Cullen?" I said.

He looked up at me from where he lounged.

"I want to talk to you?" It came out in question form; I was still unsure of what the protocol was when speaking to a Familiar.

I was expecting the air around him to crackle and thrum with energy this time, so it wasn't much of a surprise. But the idea of a grown man emerging from the tiny little fur covered package was still baffling, the sight still astounding as it was unsettling.

I had many questions for him and I wasn't sure where to begin. If he knew what was on my mind he gave no indication, choosing instead to wait silently.

"First things first," I demanded. "Why me?"

He lifted an eyebrow.

"If Familiars are attracted to power," I clarified, "why would you choose me?"

His expression softened a little and he answered with another question, "And why wouldn't I choose you?"

I glared in irritation, which just resulted in his laughter.

"You have power," Cullen replied, with a smile of knowing. "You just don't realize it."

I tried to object but he silenced me with a look.

"I told you before that matters of the flesh concerned me little. I do not care if you are short or tall, fat or skinny, green skinned or battle scarred. I do not deal in the physical; your body is merely a vessel and I see what's inside it. Inside of you, Isabella Marie Swan is a _soul._ In the metaphysical world, your soul, _yours_ specifically, _is_ powerful. Your species is not equipped to see it, so let me tell you what I see.

"Your soul is like a Sun. Its existence has its own physical force; the souls around yours respond like Moons… Ordinary space junk hurtling through time that become trapped in your gravitational pull, illuminated by your light.

"Some Moons will act as satellites, content to orbit forever in your presence. Some Moons will act as meteors, breaking loose from orbit to crash into you… Whether or not those meteors will carry love or hate, bring destruction or creation… I can't say."

I tried to process this information but it didn't make any sense. I was ordinary. I'd never done anything of worth.

"I don't understand. How could my soul get so powerful?"

"Look at what you do."

"But I don't _do_ anything!"

"No?" Cullen looked smug now. "So you've never stood up for the honor of someone weaker than yourself? Never gone out of your way to be nice to someone who hadn't necessarily earned the kindness, but needed it regardless? You've never tried to mend a broken bridge when it would be simpler to allow decay?"

"She doesn't understand." The Scarecrow's voice came out of the darkness.

I jumped in response; I had all but forgotten him.

Cullen sighed, maybe with frustration. "Bella, it's not always about a big gesture or a moment of fame… Sometimes it's enough to be there for someone in need. When have you ever turned down a friend?"

"So… My soul is powerful… Because I'm _nice_?"

"Precisely."

"But I'm not always nice," I argued, "I've insulted Rosalie and Jasper and Lauren and I stole a pen from the bank once. It's not like I'm Gandhi!"

Cullen laughed. "First, no one's Gandhi but Gandhi. Second, I have seen you interact with those ruffians. You have never picked a fight; you simply defend yourself, not very well, and then you walk away. Third… I admit the pen thing is a bit sketchy. Aren't those usually chained to the counter?"

"It's not a sturdy chain," I mumbled looking away.

He laughed again. "It was an accident wasn't it?"

I sighed and nodded confirmation. The pen was in my hand and I turned around and _snap_. Nobody else noticed so…

I heard a snort of laughter from the shadows.

"Shut it, Scarecrow, it's not funny."

"Anything else on your mind?"

"You said you couldn't travel in this form… but clearly you had no trouble setting up camp."

"That's not a question."

I rolled me eyes. "Why can't you travel on two legs instead of four?"

"It isn't a matter of can or cannot. The dog is more convenient."

"For who?" I asked.

"Both of us." Without another word on the subject, his body was changing back into the little Norwegian Lundehund he pretended to be.

He had certainly given me plenty to think over. I lay down next to the fire and closed my eyes, but the sense of peace I'd felt earlier was gone and it wasn't coming back tonight.

* * *

**Notes: _I thought since I've thrown a lot of info, I'd give a quick character clarification for anyone who wants it. As it now stands:_**

_Munchkinland = Ruled by Volturi family= Volturi not mentioned in Forks._

_The Good Witch of the North= Esme =the town vet in Forks_

_The Wicked Witch of the East(deceased)= Lorelle= was Lauren in Forks_

_The Wicked Witch of the West= The Black Rose = Rosalie Hale in Forks_

_Cullen(Carlisle)= A Familiar/Spirit Guide= Norwegian Lundehund in Forks_

_The Scarecrow= "Scarecrow" is an occupation= Edward Masen in Forks_

_The Irish Coven(mentioned in passing)=owns the cornfield where the Scarcrow works= not mentioned in Forks_

**_Please review, I'd love to hear your thoughts!_**

**_Also, I couldn't remember if i'd responded or not to last chapter reviews, lol, so if i forgot, my apologies!_**


	12. The Dark Side of the Moon

Morning came quickly and quietly. The fire had long since stopped burning but the ashes smoldered on. I stared up at the morning sky through the tree tops; perfect powder blue with wisps of chrome clouds.

"Bella?" The Scarecrow's voice came tentatively from the direction of his tree.

I sat up and look over at him.

"Where's Cullen?" he asked.

I looked around the clearing and saw that Cullen was missing. I got to my feet and shrugged nervously. I wouldn't say it out loud, but Cullen's absence frightened me. He was the only thing I had from home. Even with the Scarecrow beside me without Cullen I felt helplessly alone.

"Maybe he's waiting on the road?" the Scarecrow offered.

_Maybe, _I thought, _Cullen wasn't exactly the most patient of characters…_

I bent down and scraped some dirt onto the ashes, to smother what little life was left in them. I was already inadvertently guilty of witchcraft and murder; I didn't think I needed to add arson to the list of charges against me.

I stood up and felt a familiar cramp in my lower abdomen…

"Pick a tree," Scarecrow answered my thought. "I'll go wait on the road."

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. This is exactly why I never allowed family camping trips. Pissing in the bushes and wiping with a fern leaf weren't exactly appealing.

At least I was wearing a dress.

I had a quick but horrifying image of me trying to squat with my legs tangled in pants. With my balance being what it was…

I never thought I'd be grateful for a dress.

"Bella! You better finish up!"

I froze.

I hadn't known the Scarecrow long, but I recognized that something was off about the tone of his voice…It sounded sharp with urgency.

I took care of business as fast as possible and hurried out to the road.

The Scarecrow was standing on the grassy border with his back to me when I emerged from the woods and, as I stepped out, he spread his legs widening his body to keep me behind him. It wasn't hard for me to understand why he felt the need to take such a protective stance.

Three Munchkinlanders, two short and one tall, stood on the road across from us, but these three didn't look like the friendly townsfolk who'd greeted me the day before. They were dressed in brown and green earthy tones, like a primitive camouflage. The blonde male had his hand resting very obviously on a dagger at his hip, his hair in a tangle knot at the back of his head. The dark haired male had his hair in dreadlocks that seemed to take on a life of their own, covering his face from view like Rastafarian Cousin It…But it was the spiked club in his hand that was more alarming than his sense of style. The tall Munchkinlander, a woman with wild red curls that were filled with dead leaves, was staring at me with a suspicious and hateful gaze. She was taller than them by a couple of heads, but I still towered over her.

My eyes flicked back to the blonde with the knife, to the dreadlocked man with the club and then back to woman… For a split second I thought she was unarmed, and then with slight sense of horror I noticed her nails, sharpened to vicious points and the brass knuckles with tipped edges. I realized she carried no weapon because she was the weapon.

Yes, Scarecrow and I were larger. But we were outnumbered and unarmed.

"You," the woman barked at me, "who are you?"

There was something about her voice that sounded similar to a voice I'd heard before… Something about the shape of her eyes, the way her lips puckered…

I opened my mouth to answer, but no sound came out.

"I asked you a question! Who are you and why the hell are you wearing my dress?"

"I'm not wearing your dress!" I denied.

"Yes, you are," Scarecrow contradicted me just as fast, "I can see it inside her-"

I punched him in the back to shut him up.

That's why she looked so familiar.

It seems Mary was wrong. Victoria did indeed mind that I borrowed her clothes.

"You must be Mary's sister!" I said, trying to make my tone warm and friendly.

"Did _Mary_ give you that?" Victoria asked.

"Yes, she said I could borrow-"

She took a step toward us shouting. "And you've gone and got it all filthy!"

"I'm sorry," I backpedaled, "She assured me you wouldn't mind."

"Oh, of course not, why would I mind? Perfect Mary born the perfect size… Poor Victoria should just be grateful she even has a bed that fits her!"

Clearly I shouldn't have mentioned Mary.

"Too late now," Scarecrow whispered, but he seemed more amused by her tirade then frightened.

"I didn't think I was asking too much, that Daddy make the doorways bigger, so I didn't have to crawl on my belly like an animal!"

"Oh…" Scarecrow sighed and then stage whispered, "An out of control sibling rivalry with a side of daddy issues."

"I heard that!" she shouted.

"You were supposed too," the Scarecrow replied smoothly.

I hit him in the back again. "That's not helping!" I hissed.

Victoria took a step toward him, off the road and onto the sidewalk.

The Scarecrow's velvet voice sung out softly, "The lunatic is on the grass…"

"What did you call me?"

"The lunatic is on the grass…" he parroted himself.

Then he cocked his head as and sung out, "Remembering games…and daisy chains and laughs… Got to keep the loonies on the path…"

A shocking snarl came out of Victoria as she swung her armored fist at the Scarecrow's unprotected face.

I shrieked in fear, but to my surprise he skipped to the left leaving her fist swinging heavily through open air. He spun on his heel and his arms shot out; he shoved Victoria in the ribs, under her outstretched arm. Victoria flew back and into the dreadlocked man holding the cudgel. His hair fell out of his face for a split second revealing the surprise in his eyes as both he and the mad woman tumbled to the ground.

"The lunatic is in my head… The lunatic is in my head…" the Scarecrow continued to sing, even as the blond Munchkin pulled his knife and stepped forward. "There's someone in my head but it's not me…"

The man's knife jabbed out and up toward the Scarecrow's stomach; he leapt away from the pointed blade. The blond man grinned cruelly and moved toward me instead. But Scarecrow moved too, grabbing the blonde in a headlock, twirling with him, and throwing him on top of his companions.

"Play nice, James," the Scarecrow chastised while he dropped the musical number.

He stepped off the grass and onto the brick as the three ruffians tried to untangle themselves from each other.

A rustle from the leaves made me jump and twist, thinking a fourth tormenter was on the way, but it was Cullen who leapt from the bushes in a crackle of leaves and branches, in human form no less.

"Stop this nonsense!" Cullen yelled, his eyes wild in their sockets.

"Cullen, where have you been?"

"Shhhhh…." he hissed. "Listen!"

A sound carried in on the wind.

I was reminded vaguely of the sounds coming from Auto-Shop class. An earsplitting metallic shriek as a high-powered buzz saw sliced through unwilling metal; I could almost see the sparks in my head. But as I listened I realized it wasn't exactly like sound I was thinking of. _This _sound as far away as it was, rose and dropped, fluctuated… Soon it was joined by other similar sounds. The shrill chorus caused my goosebumps to rise and sent a tremor of unease down my spine.

"What the hell is that?" I whispered.

"The hunting party," Cullen answered ominously.

"The what?"

"The Vinkus Wolves." The voice that spoke to me now was new and unfamiliar and it reminded me of that we were standing on the yellow brick road with violent brigands. But they seemed as entranced and unnerved by the sound as we were.

"Their voices can carry for hundreds of miles," the same voice continued… Seeing that James's lips weren't moving I had to assume Cousin It was speaking.

"Horse shit!" snapped James. "We shouldn't be able to hear them this far East. The breeze can only carry the hunting call so far, Laurent."

The sound ended abruptly.

"The Wicked Witch of the West uses the beasts as scouts," Laurent supplemented.

James laughed. "Why would she send them East? I doubt the bumbling farmers of Munchkinland could have annoyed her that much to suffer such a horror…"

"They're probably coming for Bella," the Scarecrow supplied.

"What?" I asked, in unison with the three strangers.

The Scarecrow looked at me and said matter-of-factly, "Well, you did kill her sister and steal her inheritance."

Her inheritance?

My eyes and everyone else's drifted down to the sparkling ruby slippers; they were slightly darker in the morning light and under the shadow of the tree canopy they shimmered less like glitter and more like liquid and they looked less like rubies and more like blood.

"Shit a brick and call it Tara Lou!" Laurent exclaimed.

His hair swinging wildly he grabbed his club and leapt to his feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" James yelled after him.

Laurent stopped. "The foreign brood murdered Lorelle, stole the ruby slippers, and incurred the wrath of the hunting party. I didn't sign for this! I'm going home to my girl while I can still do so!"

"You coward!" James screamed as Laurent disappeared into the woods.

"I'll see you on the Dark Side of the Moon!" Laurent's voice carried back through the woods.

James grabbed his knife with one hand and pulled Victoria upright with the other.

"Where were we?" he asked.

Cullen growled low and curled his lips from his pointed teeth. "You were just leaving," he answered James.

James eyed Cullen warily, then the Scarecrow, then with greed he gave the ruby slippers another look.

"Right, we were," he agreed; too easily for all the longing in his eyes.

"What?" Victoria snapped. "What about my dress!"

"Sweetheart, forget the dress. I'll get you a new dress. Something in a red…"

I didn't miss the subtext and sadly, neither did the lunatic in question.

Her eyes widened slightly and she smiled venomously.

"Right, we should go," she replied softly.

He tugged her arm and they disappeared into the woods.

"I'm not normally one for thinking, but I don't think we've seen the last of them," the Scarecrow stated.

Cullen's hand lashed out fast like a viper strike, smacking Scarecrow upside the head and knocking his hat to the ground.

"You don't say?" he asked sarcastically. "What were you thinking pointing out the slippers to them?"

"I wasn't thinking," the Scarecrow replied, bending to pick up his hat. "And where were you while we were being jumped by robbers?"

"I'll have you know I was speaking to a Bird from the South about Quadling country. The marsh people fear an uprising from the Minors union."

"How does that help us? We're going North not South."

"It helps how we'll be received. The Emerald City is the largest trade center in Oz. The people there will be a lot kinder to strangers bringing news of why their gem shipments are late."

"Unless they decide to shoot the messengers," I answered.

Cullen laughed. "It's all about how you present the information."

"So you can talk to birds?" I asked.

"Birds not birds. It's just like Cows instead of cows, remember? Some animals can breach the language barrier rising to new levels of intellect by doing so and gaining a status equal to human citizens."

"And the Vinkus Wolves?" I asked and Cullen blanched a little.

"The Vinkus Wolves aren't like wolves you remember from your world. They are very different and much more dangerous. This is why we should keep moving. The sooner we get out of the country and into the city the safer we'll be. I'll answer what ever questions you have, Scarecrow can translate, but we really should be moving."

He transformed back to his other form without even bothering to ask if the Scarecrow minded being a translator.

"Why would I mind?" asked the Scarecrow. "I don't have a mind to mind."

Cullen started up the road at a brisk trot and we fell into line behind him.

As we walked I asked, "Scarecrow, what did Laurent mean when he said 'I'll see you on the dark side of the moon'?"

"It's an insult of sorts. In religious teachings, The Dark Side of the Moon is where evildoers get sent when they pass into the Afterlife. Its said to be a place of eternal unrest and suffering."

"Sort of like, _I'll see you in Hell,_ then?"

"What's Hell?" the Scarecrow asked curiously.

In my head I conjured up an image of a barren wasteland covered in flames and cave like stalactites hanging from nowhere, in the center of the chaos I put the devil with his pitchfork and horns and for some odd reason, the clown from Stephen King's It was there.

"Cullen says it's exactly like, _I'll see you in Hell,_ but to be honest I don't think they get much entertainment on The Dark Side of the Moon."

I realized that he was lingering on the image of the clown in my head and began laughing until tears rolled down my cheeks in great torrents.

* * *

**Chapter Notes:** The song I had the Scarecrow singing to Victoria, is actually a song called Brain Damage by Pink Floyd, off their 1973 album The Dark Side of the Moon. The album is also referred to as The Dark Side of OZ as the vinyl coincidentally syncs up with the muted movie of The Wizard of Oz as an alternative soundtrack. (more on this rumor on my blog)

**Review please!**


	13. The Amazons' Apples

"So why is everyone afraid of these wolves? Wolves can be dangerous but they don't really hunt people, do they?"

"The Vinkus Wolves are dangerous because they aren't really wolves… They're a people."

I sighed in annoyance. "Is this going to be like Cows and cows and Birds and birds?"

"No," said Scarecrow. His voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "This isn't about being born in a separate IQ bracket. The native people of the Vinkus country are exactly that, _people_. The tribes are migratory and highly superstitious. When the Wicked Witch of the West made her home in the western mountain ranges, the tribes called upon their Gods and Goddesses to send them spirit warriors who could rid the land of evil. But the deities the elders prayed to didn't grant favors without cost. They were gifted the warriors at the expense of their sons and daughters. The eldest children were sentenced to become the warriors the elders had asked for."

I noticed Cullen's ear cocked back to us, his walk a little stiffer. I realized that the Scarecrow was giving me the Familiar's narration and not one of his own devising.

"They grew tall, strong, and lean; they could run many miles with out growing tired, go days without food or sleep. Their reflexes, senses, and intuitions, became dagger sharp… However, when the warrior children came of age, they became limited in away that the elders were not. They could not touch weapons. Bows, spears, clubs, and spears… fell from their hands.

"The deities the elders had been praying to, had not only made their children the warriors, but also the weapons. To fight they had to switch forms, shape-shift into a creature with the pelt of a wolf and the bloodlust of a beast… But the cunning of human intelligence remained…"

"But, that doesn't make sense," I objected. "If they were created to get rid of the witch why would they work for her?"

"Because they _failed_, Bella. The impetuous nature of children with the primitive instincts of an animal… The warriors needed wisdom to defeat The Black Rose, not impulse and raw power. By the time the warriors had control over their physical form, by the time they had put together a plan to lay siege on the castle… The Witch was already aware. She had spies of her own, informants.

"The wolves were smart but she had magic; they weren't smart enough to out think her witchery. She bound them to her with false promises, corrupted their nature, and twisted their fates… Sweetened the unpleasant pot with some extra abilities…"

"Extra abilities?" I parroted him. I couldn't imagine what else shape-shifting warriors could possible need.

"She gave them wings." The Scarecrow spoke this line in a slightly warmer tone and I guessed that he was retreating from Cullen's mind or vice versa.

"Wings?"

The Scarecrow nodded and his eyes flicked upwards for a brief but noticeable moment. "So they could hunt by air."

My eyes flickered upwards, half expecting to see a flying wolf-man bearing down on me. But the sky was clear blue and void of life with the exception of the burning sun and the occasional fluttering blue bird.

"That sound they were making? I've heard wolves howl before… They don't howl like that."

The Scarecrow shrugged. "There are separate trains of thought on that. The Natives think that sound is the voices of the Gods speaking through the cursed children. More theatrical types like to believe that the sound is the"-here he swept his hat from his head and held it to his chest- "_agonized cry of woe begotten souls cursed for all eternity."_ Scarecrow snorted with humor and replaced his hat. "Others think, well, why not? They aren't wolves, not really, so why should their cry sound like those of simple wood wolves?"

He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and then blew out a huff of air. He stopped walking reached out and grabbed my arm, stopping me as well.

"Look, Bella, you need to know something," the Scarecrow became very intense then, holding my arm tighter like he was afraid I would slip away.

His green eyes were unblinking as he explained, "The one thought that everyone can always agree on is that the Vinkus Wolves don't howl for a variety of reasons… Just one. They howl only when they begin a hunt. As you've heard, the hunting call has sounded."

"But even if that's true, we don't know for sure that…" _That they are coming for me. _Even as I finished the thought, I doubted it. With the way my luck was going, with all the trouble I'd caused the Wicked Witch of the West, who else would they be looking for?

The Scarecrow released my arm and we started walking again.

I observed my surroundings a little more closely and noticed that the woods weren't woods anymore. We were still surrounded by trees, but they were too cohesively grown. No longer haphazard plantings, instead the tree seemed to grow in militant rows. There were no dead, leafless branches hanging uselessly from limbs or suffocating creepers twisting around trunks drowning out the sun, these trees were flawless in their growth. These trees were cared for.

"Orchard country." The Scarecrow informed me.

I nodded and admired the varied fruit trees, their leaves pristine and green with varied pastel colored blossoms. I couldn't identify them all, but I could appreciate them.

"The Amazons own most of orchard country, with the exception of a few government owned plots. Kachiri Amazon is a conservationist, descended from a rich mining family. They kicked her from the family when she put shame to their good name, but they didn't take her inheritance."

"Shamed their name?"

The Scarecrow blushed deeply. "Well, it's really none of my business."

I laughed at his awkwardness. "Then you shouldn't have brought it up!"

"I know she spent sometime in jail for trying to shut down the mines," he hedged.

"And?"

"And when she got out she bought up all this country until she ran out of money. She turned it into orchards and the animals and land remain much the same; because it's privately owned the government can't touch it to develop it. Because she's got the best orchards in all of Munchkinland she's been slowly regaining her fortunes."

"But you said Amazons, plural. Did she reconcile with her family?"

"No, she created a new one…" he lowered his voice as if her were afraid someone might overhear the gossip, "Word is she has two _partners_. Two _female_ partners."

He didn't need to say anymore, the scandalous tone in which he spoke of Kachiri Amazon's new family explained the details he was leaving out.

"Oh!" I answered as I blushed at the idea of an all-female ménage à trois.

He chuckled and shook his head.

We walked in silence for a while; Cullen still maintained the lead while the good-natured, nameless Scarecrow kept pace with me. The crisp perfume of blossoms drifted down on the breeze, and despite the very real threat of the so-called Vinkus Hunting Party, I couldn't help but feel a little light hearted. The shadows from the fruit trees danced playfully across the yellow brick road, as if they were celebrating the arrival of strangers in their midst.

Another breeze and the rich scent of apple wafted under my nose.

I smelled them before I saw them, impossible looking apples. Perfectly symmetrical and red as the ruby slippers I had resigned myself to wearing. Apples fit for the Bible; I half expected to see a snake trying to lure me over…

As it turns out no snake was needed; between the smell and the sight of the plump, ripe fruit, my stomach let out a grumble. It was then I became aware of how very light my basket was… most of the baked goods had been consumed and I was sure all that remained in the basket was a canteen of water and those horrible lollipops the midget strippers had given me…

"Do you think these Amazons would mind if I stole a couple apples?" I asked Scarecrow.

He shrugged. "I don't see why they should. Its not like they do a fruit count before they're picked."

Excited at the prospect of a freshly picked apple, I stepped off the road and climbed up the grassy bank, bobbling on the soft footing. Scarecrow gave a soft chuckle from behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to see what he was doing.

"I haven't eaten either," he answered my questioning thoughts.

I laughed at him and refocused my attention on the apple trees. One of them in particular caught my attention. I paused cautiously a few feet away; the tree had deep gauges in its beige flesh, the white pulp of the trunk exposed. I glanced down the rows, at the clearly cared for trees and frowned at the one that looked freshly ravaged.

"Maybe a storm tore some limbs?" the Scarecrow suggested and then added, "Do you think?"

I reached up and touched the soft wood and my hands came away sticky with resin.

"Seems kind of fresh to be a storm," I mumbled.

After all, we had slept outside last night. Even if the rain clouds had missed us, wouldn't we have been able to hear the wind, the thunder?

My stomach rumbled again reminding me of why I was here.

I shrugged off the oddity and headed for a tree that hadn't suffered any recent abuse.

What happened next was like something out of a bad horror movie. My hand reached out slowly to appreciatively caress a silken apple skin, when I realized that the tree was watching me. What I had disregarded as knots in the bark were actually eyes, eyes that stared, eyes that _blinked._

I yelped in shock and leapt back, but the tree was faster. A bare branch whipped through the air, a hand with spindly twig fingers, and wrapped around my wrist.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice came out of the tree in great gravelly bellow.

I had to pee again.

"Let go!" Scarecrow shouted reaching for the twigs wrapped around my wrist.

"Watch out!" I screamed at him, crying in my fear, but my shout wasn't soon enough.

Another branch, from another tree reached out for him.

The Scarecrow twisted and flailed and broke free. He fell to the ground just out of reach of the rooted trees, but they made an awful racket with their trunks groaning, their branches crackling and swishing as they tried to snatch him back.

The tree holding me, shook me so hard my eyes rolled inside their sockets and the world blurred. And just when my terrified bladder threatened to loose its contents Cullen leapt from nowhere, as he so enjoyed making his entrances, and latched on to the limb that held me. The monster seemed more surprised than hurt by the furry little assailant and let me go.

Cullen released the limb from his jaws and placed himself in front of me as I backed away into the safety of the Scarecrows chest.

I glanced over at his face looking for reassurance; I gasped when I saw a streak of blood raised on his cheek where a lashing branch had cut into his skin.

The trees all stopped moving at once, except for one tree. The one that was still moving was the tree that had grabbed me.

"I asked you a question!"

"What?" I asked out of reflex and shock.

I was beginning to feel a bit like the Scarecrow must. Brainless and lost. It was a terrifying thing to be.

"What do you think you're doing?" The tree repeated. "Think you're gonna maim me like you did Phil?"

"I wasn't going to maim you!" The thought was ridiculous and I was on my feet in an instant. "And who the hell is Phil?"

"That's Phil!" The tree shouted right back, pointing to the tree Scarecrow and I had noticed earlier.

The Scarecrow scrambled up behind me.

"That's Phil?" They named a tree Phil? The trees were talking? Did that make them Trees?

"I didn't do that!" I yelled, pointing to the injured tree.

"Yes, you did, I saw you!" Another tree shouted but I couldn't tell which one.

"You did not!" I accused the liar without being able to see the accuser.

"I saw you touching him!" yelled the original tree.

"I touched him, but that was after he'd already been maimed!"

"Then answer the question!" The tree lurched forward slightly, putting his curling, twiggy fists on his nonexistent hips.

I took another step closer and mimicked his posture.

"What. Question," I growled at the infuriating thing.

"What. Do you. Think. You're doing."

"We've come a long way and we were hungry. I was just going to-"

"Take an apple?"

"Yes."

The trees began murmuring unintelligible sentences between themselves, some shaking their tops and shivering as they discussed my answer. The sound emanating from the trees stopped all at once and the argumentative apple tree scratched his face with the same fingers that had threatened to snap my wrist.

"You were hungry and wanted an apple?" he asked again slowly, his eyes slanting as he sussed out my answer.

"Yes," I repeated. "That's all."

"Take one," the tree ordered, its arms falling back out to the sides.

Its body went so rigid it almost looked inanimate again. Except that the dark eyes remained open and focused.

I looked back at the Scarecrow who shrugged, nodded, and shook his head. I looked down at Cullen who wagged his tail once and then growled softly. It seemed neither companion wanted to make a decision, rather leaving the choice up to me.

Part of me was wary, but logically I knew I was hungry and I didn't know when we'd have an opportunity to restock the picnic basket again. For all I knew it was now or whenever we reached the city, and who knew how long from now that would be…

I stepped forward slowly, approaching the motionless tree. I reached for an apple, hesitated, and then wrapped my finger around the orb. Just as I went to pluck the apple from its stem, there was a snap of motion, and the tree in question wrapped its spindly arms around me crushing me to its trunk.

"So you think its okay to go around plucking apples?" Its voice was so loud the sound seemed to reverberate around the inside of my skull. "How would you like it if I took something off of you!" His limbs held me tighter. "Like an arm?"

But even as it screamed the threat, it wasn't trying to take my arm. It was trying to crush me to death. I felt my bones bruising, weakening against the assault. I heard myself screaming in pain and fear until the breath was forced from my body and no more sound could come out. I heard the vicious orchard hollering encouragements; the Scarecrow's own voice added to the chaos, but my mind was too far gone to make out what he was yelling.

I was going to die. Being so close to death allowed me to witness a brutal truth: I wasn't ready. I didn't want to die and now, miles from home and lost to the people who loved me, I had no choice in the matter. I hoped that I'd get the life-flashing-before-my-eyes thing that they talked about on soap operas and docudramas so I could at least see my family one last time, but it never came.

Seconds from death and all I could think was:

_Bella Swan. Murdered by talking fruit._

* * *

**_Love it? Hate it? Pimping it? Click the button that says "Review" and tell me all about it._**


	14. The Assault

My brain was starting to go fuzzy from fear, pain, and lack of oxygen when a voice roared above the din, louder than the rest.

"Get off of 'er!"

There was a sensation of air whooshing past my head, followed by a sudden thunking. The tree trying to throttle me, dropped me with a bloodcurdling shriek. My heartbeat thumped in my ears as the blood rushed back to my brain and time began speeding up.

The Scarecrow pulled me from the orchards and back to the safety of the yellow brick road. But even as he did so the thunking sound continued as did the screams of agony from the murderous tree. I twisted around to see what was happening.

A man wielding an ax stood before the lethal apple tree, looking lethal himself as he whacked away at the wailing monster. My eyes lingered on the gouged flesh of the tree, then the fine gleaming ax-head and understood what had left Phil maimed. Suddenly, the tree's scream turned into a gurgle and its branches curled under not unlike a dead fly in a windowsill. The man froze mid-chop as the branches retreated.

He turned, red faced from exertion, but calm as you please and walked away from the apple orchard. Behind him, the curled branches straightened and stiffened but he didn't turn to look. The tree became silent and inanimate as it should have been in the first place.

He sat down casually on the bank, laying the ax across his lap, and pulled what looked to be a hand rolled cigarette from inside of his leather vest. He put the butt between his lips and patted himself down, nodded in agreement to some silent thought, and then pulled a match book from his pants pocket. He cocked a leg for the simple reason of igniting the match on a combat boot and lit his cigarette.

He took a long drag and then asked around the cigarette, "You okay?"

My jaw just hung uselessly.

Now that the adrenaline was pulling back out of my system, I felt sluggish. I eyed him and realized that his attire was the least fascinating thing about his appearance, and that was saying something because at least sixty percent of it was leather. His arms were bare and covered in a gruesome mixture of scars and tattoos. His dark hair was flat, not straight, more like at some point it had had curls, until someone deflated them. It reminded me of the unwashed hair of a mental patient. Around his neck hung a plethora of charms, each on its own leather necklace.

The longer I stayed silent the more concerned he looked. He half rose up and then settled back down.

He took the cigarette from his lips and half rose and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay."

I jerked my head around to the Scarecrow remembering his existence.

"Are you…" I began but interrupted myself with a gasp.

The wound itself didn't seem too severe and the blood was trickling out slowly, but it was making a mess of his face as gravity pulled it down his jaw line. His cheek had swollen up and the skin looked red and irritated.

"It's fine," the Scarecrow tried to assure me, but it would have been more convincing if the damage to his face wasn't making it harder for his lips to move.

"You'll certainly live," the man with the ax said, taking another puff of his cigarette. "Sorry about that, but the Amazon family like their apples fresh."

He laughed and then frowned when we didn't laugh with him.

"_Fresh_?" he said.

I chuckled at the bad pun but the Scarecrow's body seemed to grow more rigid as I became relaxed.

"Funny," the Scarecrow answered, but he didn't seem amused.

I looked up at my companion again and saw him watching the stranger with a glare that seemed to be a mixture of disdain and suspicion.

"What does he look like to you, Bella?" the Scarecrow whispered in my ear.

I looked back at the man and set aside my appreciation for the fact that he just saved my life and tried to view him objectively. The filthy hair. The leather vest. The _ax._ Suddenly the scars and the tattoos looked more gruesome than before. The charms around his neck? What if they weren't charms? Could they be-

"Trophies," the Scarecrow hissed in my ear.

So with that confirmation of my thoughts from the mind-reader himself, what did this stranger look like to me?

Trouble.

"So you must be new around these parts," he drawled, observing us with the same speculation we were giving him, like he had sensed the atmosphere was no longer friendly. "Not many people are foolish enough to mess with the Amazon's orchards… What's your brain damage?"

He stood up so fast I almost missed the movement. One moment he was lounging casually in the grass and the next he was standing up, ax in hand. He walked toward us with measured steps never removing his eyes from us.

Cullen let out a warning growl and the man looked at the dog once, then a second time with greedy eyes.

"That's an interesting find…" his drawl was lower now, as he eyed the dog he knew wasn't a dog, almost a growl itself.

I snatched the dog up as the Scarecrow leapt to his feet. I got up too, less gracefully than either of them. My knees couldn't stop shaking and I just couldn't take my eyes from the ax. Once again we were facing an armed threat.

Why were so many people trying to kill me?

He swung the ax up by its handle; I flinched.

The bastard smirked.

"I'm not gonna hit you with it, Honey," he replied. "Murder's messy."

"Then if you don't mind, I think it's time we take our leave," the Scarecrow said.

The man with the ax seemed to think this was hysterical. He laughed until the ax slipped through his grip, the handle clonking on the brick, and he leaned his weight against the head to support himself.

"You're gonna go traipsing off? Like that?" he asked through his laughter.

I didn't understand the joke.

The Scarecrow blushed at whatever was inside the brigand's head.

"What do you mean 'Like that'?" I asked confused and suspicious.

"Little Darlin', have you looked at yourself?"

I looked down.

The tree hadn't managed to kill me but it did a good job killing my borrowed dress. If Victoria was pissed before… Then the reality of how much skin was showing to my all male companions sunk in and I wanted to crawl into a hole. I clutched Cullen tightly to my exposed chest and tried not to think about things like how soft his fur was on my bare skin or the fact that he wasn't really a dog or that Scarecrow was listening to every single thought-

"Why don't youse two, come with me? Unless you want the Bluezers to get you on indecent exposure?"

"Bluezers?" I asked, latching onto any subject other than the embarrassingly obvious.

"Its slang? For police?" he looked at me like I was an idiot. "Blue uniforms? Excessive force allowed? Bluezers?"

I stared blankly. I didn't get it.

"Bruiser and blue, Bella," the Scarecrow mumbled.

Oh.

"She looks human…" the stranger joked.

"She's not from around here," the Scarecrow said.

"Clearly."

The condescending tone combined with the way his eyes raked over my body like I was something to eat, pissed me off.

"You know what?" I snapped, embracing my new vocabulary. "I'll see you on The Dark Side of the Moon."

I'd rather streak naked through the Amazons' possessed orchards than accept his help.

He laughed, but the traces of good humor were wiped almost immediately from his face. He pointed at me with the blade.

"That's the trick isn't it?" His voice grew cold and hard and I shivered as his eyes stared deep into my own. "There is no Dark Side. Matter of fact, it's all dark." The hazel in his eyes seemed to swirl like storm clouds and as unnerved as he made me, I couldn't look away.

"Don't pay him any mind, Bella," the Scarecrow told me, "He's just a Tinman."

"Oh! Ouch!" The man flinched dramatically and clasped a hand to his chest.

The he rolled his eyes and gestured to the Scarecrow with his ax. "Maybe I am a Tinman? Everyone's gotta survive somehow right? And you? What are you?"

Without waiting for an answer, his face hardened. "You've got calluses on you hands and sunburn on your neck. What you call an honest day's work is one step away from slave labor, but hey, you get paid right?'

"I know your type; you work so often you don't want to remember a time when you couldn't and so you cast judgment on those who don't like the Unnamed God gone on holiday.

"And you?" he snapped at me. "People just bend over for you, don't they? You wear a borrowed dress, clutch a Familiar when there is little magic to your name, and pick up the brave protector who's more brainless than a mashed potato? So God rue the day when he made the unemployable inconveniencing to you!"

The Scarecrow snorted. "You don't look crippled, but what do I know?"

"Nothing, I'd wager, as there is little more than straw stuffed between your ears isn't that right?"

The Scarecrow flinched as the petty jibe struck home.

But that begged the question-

"How did you know that?" I interrupted the madman's rant. "How did you know 'there's little more than straw'?"

"Darling, what I know could curl your pigtails."

"First, the name's Bella. Second, I'm not wearing pigtails. And third-"

"Pffft. You really are lost aren't you?"

I was liking this jerk less and less despite his heroic actions. "Will you just explain-"

"I will explain nothing. I saved your life. And I offered to lend you clothes out of the goodness of my heart-"

"Pfft." The Scarecrow interrupted by doing an imitation. "You mean the heart you don't have, Fair Tinman?"

Something transformed on the Tinman's face. A little bit of hurt followed by a whole lot of rage. The ax fell to the ground and the man launched himself at the Scarecrow. The Scarecrow couldn't move fast enough this time; the sickening crunch of the Scarecrow's nose was proof of that.

I dropped Cullen to the ground and leapt into the fray unable to make myself watch Scarecrow fight a losing battle. As my arms reached out, one hand tangling in the oily brunette hair the other attempting to wrap around the stranger's neck, a pair of slender arms wrapped around my own waist.

I screamed in horror thinking the trees were at it again and reacted. I released the so-called Tinman and twisted, saw the blonde with the corn silk hair yelling something at me-

I curled my hand into a fist and thrust it upward into her jaw, her teeth clicked together and she fell back dragging me with her.

A stronger pair of arms dragged me off of the slender woman; I could feel another brawny chest against my back and knew it was another man.

"That's enough!" He yelled. "That's enough!"

I thrashed against him but he had my arms pinned.

The woman grabbed the ax by its blade and rapped the man on top of Scarecrow on the top of the head. He released my friend to protect himself and Scarecrow managed to get the upper hand for half a second… She spun the ax handle so the blade was on his cheek.

I screamed and he froze.

The sound that came out of me was short. Once I realized she was not going to behead him and was merely threatening to behead him…

"I believe Peter said to cut the shit." Her voice had a masculine timber, making her unspoken threat more ominous.

Scarecrow slowly rose to his feet.

"Let her go," he commanded, but I don't think he felt as brave as he sounded.

"Be nice?" The one called Peter asked me.

I nodded.

He let go of me and I fled into the Scarecrow's arms.

"So what's going on here?" The woman asked.

"Damn you Charlotte, did you have to hit me so hard?" the man answered, sitting upright and rubbing the spot where she'd whacked him.

She laughed and replied, "I coulda hit you harder, and you could be unconscious."

He stood up and snapped his fingers.

She rolled her eyes, but handed him his ax.

"The usual. I rescued a distressed damsel and her cowardly cohort got personal."

Peter chuckled. "If that's the usual, I gotta get me to a church. Ain't we usually the ones distressing the damsels?"

"She tried to steal from the orchards."

"Ha! Rookie mistake!" Peter exclaimed. "Girl, if you're gonna steal apples you gotta pick a better mark."

"Why?" The question popped out. "Are they _Trees_?"

Peter's laugh was big and loud where Charlotte's laugh sounded hoarse.

When they got control of themselves Peter answered, "Now that would be somethin' wouldn't it? Sentient trees?"

"Next they'll be wanting equal rights," Charlotte added.

"It's just an enchantment, a self defense mechanism," Peter explained. "How do you think the Amazon's made their fortune off of _fruit_? When it's surrounded by wilderness? The trees defend themselves and hungry robbers and wildlife go on their way to the next farm and be somebody else's problem."

"It's effective…mostly." Charlotte smirked as she spoke.

"Mostly?"

"Well," said the jerk that remains nameless, "An ax will always win in the end. They'll submit their fruit before their lives."

"And they're not great thinkers. Too much emotion and impulse in the charm."

"What do you mean?"

I asked.

"Come along now!" Peter spoke so loudly, I considered covering my ears. "You don't want any of _those_ apples!"

"What-"cough "-does that mean!" gasped from behind us.

The tree that tried to kill me, gouged flesh and failing voice, was now watching Peter intensely.

"Just that she can do better!" Peter called out.

"Are you-" cough "-saying that my-" cough "-apples aren't what they ought to be?"

"Oh no, they look delicious! Its just she doesn't like little green worms!"

The trees screeched in outrage, a sound like nails on chalkboard, and limbs began flailing again. I yelped as the first apple bounced off my shoulder and ducked to avoid the hail of apples pelting our way. Peter grunted as one bounced off his head and the Scarecrow caught one mid-flight before it hit Charlotte.

The apples continued raining on us and the guy with the ax just laughed.

Charlotte grabbed my arm and tugged, shouted, "Run!"

It sounded like a good idea.

* * *

_**Still reading? Let me know how I'm doing. Got comments? I'd love to hear them! **_


	15. The Fort in the Forest

_What are Tinmen_? I thought; the Scarecrow continued to look uneasy as we followed the three strangers deeper into the woods.

"Thieves and con artists," the Scarecrow whispered. "They'd trade their grandmothers in for a tin-piece."

Seeing my confusion, he rubbed his fingers together and clarified, "Local currency."

_They don't seem so bad,_ I thought, _well, accept for the first guy…_

"Oh, no? Look how easy it was to get us to follow them. We're not even heading in the direction we need to anymore. Have they told us where we are going?"

My legs locked underneath me, stopping me dead in my tracks.

The one called Charlotte didn't miss a trick; she looked back at me and smiled charmingly.

"Anything wrong?" she asked.

Paranoia had me in its grips.

"Nothing," I lied.

"This way," Peter said. "We're getting close."

I started walking again because I wasn't sure we had a choice in the matter.

"Where are we going?" I tried to ask casually but my voice betrayed me.

"Camp," said the mean one, who had yet to name himself.

"And where is that?" I asked.

"There's a woodshed up ahead." He turned to look at me. "You ask too many questions." He turned away and kept walking.

"What's your name, Tinman?" I added one more to the list out of spite.

"Piss off."

"Piss Off? Your parents must have hated you…" I tacked on.

He snarled and pushed ahead of his comrades leaving the four of us alone.

Peter chuckled. "Nice one, Girly. But you mark my words; no mother could hate her child that much."

"Peter," Charlotte's masculine voice had an edge to it.

"What do you mean?"

Peter shrugged.

"He's right. You ask too much. This way," he ordered.

We followed him around a bend and again I stopped moving. It wasn't a camp. It was a ramshackle fort. Bushes had been ripped from the ground and dragged to create a prickly perimeter around a homemade fire pit and a stone shed that was roughly the size of a small ranch house. Jade mosses had covered the majority of the pewter colored masonry and at some point a tree had collapsed on top of it, but the roof had held up against the act of nature.

"The Amazons don't use this place so we sort of make camp here when we pass through this country," Charlotte explained. "Come with me, I'll get you some clothes so you can put that beast down."

I glanced at Cullen who was lying politely in my arms, covering up my tattered bodice. The dog yawned; being carried for the duration of the hike seemed to agree with him.

I followed her to the shed and watched her struggle to get the stiff door open. I had noticed Tinman Number One's athletic body while he was rescuing me. Peter had been thick with muscle. I hadn't noticed until now how physically fitting Charlotte matched her companion. Her hard muscles bunched and bulged as she strained and the door groaned and gave way.

Women weren't made like that in Forks.

There was so much beauty in this land. Everywhere you looked there was something new and incredible and impossible. But then Witches explode and Cows talk and apple orchards try to murder passerby… It was giving me a complex. Was this dream world really a cloaked nightmare?

She stepped in to the shed but was stopped by a blockade of wood.

"Um, Charlotte? I don't think there's any room for me to dress in there…"

"What?" She turned, blinked, and laughed her smoker's laugh. "Oh, you're not gonna dress inside. Wait here."

I could do that, but where was she going? Before I could ask, she began scaling the wall of stockpiled lumber. She was at the top and out of sight in seconds. I listened to her rummaging around and realized they'd hidden their supplies inside the shed on top of the mess. I was considering offering help, but I doubted I could make it to the top if I was given unlimited time and a ladder.

"Look out below," she said.

I stepped back foolishly assuming she was going to throw the clothes down to me. She leapt with the grace of cat down to the floor. She smiled and nodded.

"Change behind the shed. I hope ya don't mind but my evening wear was limited."

I didn't want to be rude, but to some extent I did mind. Not that I was a dress person, but I had a suspicion if your skin was not used to leather pants they might chafe. I had no desire to be traveling long distances with heat rash. But the clothes she handed me had been treated differently than hers. The pants were a soft, pliable animal skin. The shirt was plain cotton flannel.

I put Cullen down and covered my chest with the bundle. I headed out behind the shed and ditched the tattered dress. I pulled on the clothing. The pants were surprisingly breathable. The shirt was a little big, but maybe with being surrounded by criminals that detail may have been for the best.

I was checking out my new threads, when I heard the Scarecrow scream and the two male Tinmen laughing. I ran out from behind the shed and glared at Charlotte. Was this it? Divide and conquer?

But no, she looked just as confused.

Scarecrow was huddled in a ball about five feet from the fire. The fire burning was unusually hot considering it'd been nonexistent when we arrived. I started to run across the campground when the jerk raised his hand and in it was a brown bottle. He tossed it into the pit and the fire leapt higher; I jumped in surprise and the Scarecrow shrieked and curled tighter.

Peter wasn't finding it funny anymore. He was beginning to realize something was wrong. It was clear from the other one's face that he had known all along that something was wrong and still found the activity fun. I had experience terror, awe, and confusion since arriving here, but this was the first time I'd felt hatred rise inside of me.

Charlotte was screaming at her companions.

I knelt beside the Scarecrow.

"Look at me," I whispered, reaching out and putting a hand on his clammy cheek.

His eyes slowly crawled up to mine.

"You'll be okay." _You'll be okay?_ That sounded so insignificant.

"I'm going to fix this, I promise." _I promise. _"Close them."

My heart ached to see the Scarecrow obediently squishing his eyes tight.

"Will he-" Peter began but I silenced him with a glare.

"Put it out. Now."

"But we were going to-"

"Peter? If you hope to have sex again in your lifetime, do as she says."

Peter took off in a hurry after that.

I stalked over to the unnamed Tinman where he stood looking smug and unrepentant.

"What is your problem!" I roared.

Nothing brought out my inner lioness like seeing the man who had once served as my protector lying vulnerable in the dirt.

"What? I didn't know he would react like that when I-"

"Threw the _first _bottle on the fire? What about when you threw the second? You knew he was afraid and you did it anyway!"

"Listen _Darlin'_, I am a criminal, as your friend no doubt explained. And I, as a criminal, have the right to not give a Familiar's furry ass about what you feel."

I heard dirt churn as Peter dug clumps of soft earth up with a spade and slowly the fire began to die.

"And I, as a visitor in your beautiful country, having survived an apple tree attack, have earned the right to tell you to suck it!"

And then I kicked him in No Man's Land.

The man went down like a stray domino.

I looked across the fire pit at Peter who had smothered the fire and was using his spade to shield his testicles.

I turned back to the Scarecrow but he was already unfurling.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He nodded and shook his head… which was normal.

"Huh," Charlotte spoke from behind me.

I looked at her, staring at my feet.

"All that running we did I never noticed your shoes. I can get you something better for traveling."

I didn't have to think about this offer. With all the people who wanted to steal these shoes -The Wicked Witch, The Hunting Party, and the robbers James and Victoria - the safest place for them was right on my feet. Not to mention I hadn't completely ruled out the possibility that they might consider taking the shoes themselves.

"No, I'm fine."

"What were you two doing?" Charlotte asked.

"We were going to roast apples. Charlotte I swear I didn't know… The wood was wet, it didn't want to light. We tossed some beer in to speed it along and then…"

And then.

That was a pretty extreme reaction for someone who couldn't remember why he was afraid of fire.

I eyeballed Scarecrow. Color was returning to his face as he focused his attention on brushing dirt off of his hat.

"Look," I said. "Why'd you drag us out here? What do you want from us?"

"Want?" Charlotte repeated with an air of innocence I didn't believe.

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said. "We want the mutt."

"What? Cullen?"

Cullen's growl rumbled out but neither Peter nor Charlotte looked particularly concerned.

"Unattached Familiars catch a high price on the market."

"He's not unattached!"

"Sure he is. He chooses to be with you, but you aren't bonded to him. You can make a choice."

"My choice is made. He's mine. You can't have him."

"What if we trade? There must be something you want?" Charlotte offered. "You'd be surprised what we can get our hands on and everything has a price."

"I want to go home," the words escaped my mouth without permission.

"Excellent!" Peter shouted. "We'll take you there! Where is it?"

"I don't know."

He frowned. "Okay, don't panic. How did you get here?"

"I don't know."

"What's the place called?"

"Forks."

"Forks?" he repeated.

Charlotte barked out, "What are you staring at?"

I followed her gaze.

The brunette had since recovered from his crotch shot and was staring at my legs. I bristled angrily until I realized it wasn't my legs that held him captivated.

"Forget the Familiar," he spoke quietly, staring at my shoes. "The girl's not giving it up… Are you, Hun?"

I didn't really have to think about it. Even if they could find away to get me home I couldn't justify trading Cullen's life for mine. I didn't know what _the_ _market_ was but I could guess they weren't talking about a local Wal-Mart.

"No."

His eyes traveled up to meet mine and they didn't look angry or humorous, they looked determined.

"Those shoes on the other hand-"

"Aren't for sale either."

"Good to know, but that's not what I was going to ask."

Suddenly it hit me.

He knew. Charlotte had dismissed it and Peter hadn't noticed at all, but he knew. The angry one knew that my slippers weren't just a fashion statement.

"You're the ones the wolves are looking for."

"I don't know what you mean," I said, but even I knew the denial babbled forth too quickly.

"He means the Vinkus-" the Scarecrow began, but I silenced him with a look.

"Wait! That howling? They're after you?" Peter interrupted.

Charlotte looked nervous for the first time.

"You didn't say-" she began but the Tinman spoke faster, "They want the ruby slippers. Which are inconveniently located on your feet."

Charlotte leapt away from me like I had a contagious disease. Peter's eyes widened like tea saucers and he leaned closer to look at my feet.

"Wait! Those things are real? I thought they were knock-offs!"

"Oh, they're real enough," said the Tinman, wobbling to his feet.

It was loud, it was sudden, and it was unexpected. The sound of a shotgun blast inside a megaphone. A sound I recognized immediately. I was too shocked to do anything but turn and stare at the small explosion on the roof of the woodshed. Charlotte shrieked and Peter knocked her to the ground using his own body to shield her from the sight. Scarecrow hunched but managed to stay upright. To my surprise, Cullen and the Tinman both stalked forward, putting themselves at the front of the group.

I once described the Wicked Witch as a predatory bird; as the flames dissipated she still matched the metaphor. Her hair luminesced in the afternoon sun like feathers of a rare eagle; she perched precariously on the tree that was lying on the roof. She gazed down at us silently as stepped from the boughs of the tree to the roof. She walked out to the edge but made no move to dismount.

"Helping the fine lady along, are we?"

Peter and Charlotte said nothing.

"What of it?" said the Tinman.

She laughed. "Then let's make it interesting. First one to get me the shoes gets rewarded with whatever their heart desires."

I tensed, sure that one of these crooks would find the offer tempting, but no one moved toward me.

The Tinman laughed. "My heart desires nothing. Get lost, Witch."

The Black Rose said nothing for a moment, she just observed him quietly.

"You think you're brave now?" she asked, questioning him directly. "That somehow the world changed overnight and you can be the hero? Help me, Tinman, or stay out of my way."

"And if I choose to stand in your way?"

"I'll make a beehive from your ribcage."

The Tinman squinted at her but didn't respond.

She crouched down on the roof and turned her attention to the Scarecrow.

"And you, Scarecrow. You've tagged along and why? Because she might help you find the gold at the end of the rainbow? There is no gold and there is no rainbow. Go back to your farm."

"I'm never going back."

"Then I'll use your skin to sew a new mattress."

_Are we still in Munchkinland?_ I asked Scarecrow.

He nodded.

"You don't have power here," I said quietly.

"Excuse me?" she said, staring down at me.

"You can't make a mattress or a beehive. You're outnumbered and you have no power in Munchkinland. The Good Witch said-"

The Black Rose cackled.

"The Good Witch said? The Good Witch says a lot. Did she say why, you? All the people in that courtyard, why did she put the shoes on your feet?"

"I don't care why. Maybe my feet were the only set big enough."

She was silent for another moment and then said, "Fine. Have it your way. The border? It's about twelve hours from here. You'll be crossing it to reach the Emerald City… You know, where the Wizard lives? I'll see you there… That is if my friends can't get you first. Their power works everywhere."

The flames erupted and engulfed her and then she was just gone.

Seconds past before Peter finally uncovered Charlotte and helped her to her feet.

"It was nice meeting you," said Peter.

"Don't let the hedges hit you on your way out," finished Charlotte.

"I'll see you to the Wizard," the Tinman said quietly.

"What?" I asked.

Was he joking?

"I'll get you to see the Wizard of Oz."

That wasn't something I had to think about either.

"No way. Scarecrow, Cullen, and I will take our chances."

"You don't have any experience with this world. You don't have any weapons or any fighting experience. Familiars are fairly passive and if your friend is outnumbered he won't be able to save you. You need help."

_Not from him, _I thought.

"Agreed," the Scarecrow whispered.

"Fine then, I'm going to the Emerald City to see the Wizard." He paused dramatically and shouted, "Hey! I just realized! Aren't you going to see the Wizard too? Let's walk together for safety but continue to dislike each other!"

"And why would you need a Wizard, Tinman?" I asked wryly.

"As the mind reader so casually pointed out, I haven't got a heart. Maybe the Wizard has a spare?"

He rested his ax on his shoulder and took off without a backwards glance.

"Do you need the Wizard too?" I asked Peter and Charlotte, who both looked as baffled as I felt by this change of events.

"No ma'am," said Peter.

"I suggest you hurry," Charlotte told me, still eyeing me like I was covered in oozing sores, "you might lose him in the woods and get lost."

Isn't it funny how her tone suggested me getting lost forever in the forest might not be a bad thing?

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	16. The Heart of the Horror

_**Hello OTR readers!**_

_**I'd just like to take this moment to issue a WARNING!**_

_**For those weak of heart, this chapter is pretty violent...compared to what you've seen so far. There will be blood. I'm bumping the rating up to M for that reason alone.**_

_**See you at the bottom!**_

* * *

The Scarecrow and I fumbled through the woods, chasing after the determined Tinman who seemed to have a much better handle on the terrain.

"That's because as an animal this is his natural habitat," the Scarecrow voiced sarcastically.

I ignored the snide comment because we were falling behind and Charlotte was right; there was a very real possibility of getting lost without a guide.

"Hey!" I called after the Tinman. "Hey! Are we even going the right way?"

"What the fuck is it with you asking so many damn questions?" he called from up ahead. "Yes, we're going the right way. We brought you in through the long way to make sure you couldn't-" he stopped his sentence short.

_Find our way out_, I finished silently.

"Anyway," he called back, his voice sounding closer although I couldn't see him. "The rules have changed."

"What do you mean-" my question cut short when my toe caught a tree root.

My body flung forward through a wall of branches; I raised my arms to shield my face and braced myself for impact. You can imagine my surprise when a strong pair of arms caught me. I opened my eyes expecting to see bronze hair and a black sunhat, but instead I saw dark curls and tattoos.

He cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Now if you were watchin' where you were going that wouldn't've happened."

The bigger shock to my system was finding myself in sunlight. I had managed to trip onto the yellow brick road. I blinked in the sunlight and let him hold me. Then I remembered who was holding me and came to my senses.

I got my feet under me and pushed him away.

The Scarecrow was behind me. He was quiet now, but I could feel his presence.

The Tinman smirked at the Scarecrow.

"Jealous?"

The Scarecrow snorted.

"Of what?"

If I had to guess, the sardonic tone the Scarecrow used to reply was responsible for wiping the smirk off of Tinman's face.

"What do you mean, the rules have changed?"

"We were intending to rob you blind, but our Lady of Darkness had to show up and, well, she's clearly marked you as hers. Peter and Charlotte only have the one pair of balls to share and that's not enough incentive between the two of 'em to damage the Wicked Witch's property. And me? I'm of the opinion that whatever Rose wants, she shouldn't get. If she wants you, I'm not gonna let her get you."

"So what? You protect me from the Witch of the West and get to claim the moral high ground because you didn't rob us in the process?"

"Bah!" he shouted. "Make a beehive outta me will she? My intentions aren't noble Darlin', don't mistake it. I am just a firm believer that the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"But why-"

"Enough questions!" he yelled.

I watched the storm of hazel grow in his eyes again and took another step away, but he got control of himself and marched off down the road.

"You know, Bella, we have a name for men like him…" Scarecrow told me.

"What is it?" I asked.

His forehead wrinkled with concentration as he tried to bring forth the memory of a word.

"Hey! I don't know if anyone's concerned, but we do have a pack of flying wolves chasing us, not to mention the poisonous hag! We're burning daylight!" The Tinman hollered.

The Scarecrow snapped his fingers and said, "Cad."

* * *

"Enough!" I screamed.

I did the unthinkable. I sat down on the yellow brick road and refused to move another step forward. It was dark, my legs hurt, my back hurt, and I needed to pee like a racehorse. Traveling with the Tinman was worse than traveling with the Terminator. At least the Terminator did everyone a favor and killed himself at the end of that movie.

I heard his long legged gait approaching, but I couldn't see him in this darkness until he was standing a foot away from me. He looked down at me and narrowed his eyes.

"Get up. We need to keep moving," he ordered.

"No," I said.

The silhouette of the Scarecrow swayed just beyond the Tinman.

"I agree, we should make camp," the Scarecrow said.

"Well, no one asked you, Reject," the Tinman snapped.

The Scarecrow squinted angrily at the jab, nodded once, and he sat down where he stood.

The Tinman whirled on him. "Get up, Straw-bitch!"

I leapt to my feet and nearly fell down again when my muscles protested the abuse.

"Don't yell at him!" I yelled. "No one invited you, Psycho! You came because you were bored! Go without us if you're in such a hurry, but I'm staying here!"

"Listen, do you really want to be crossing the border in daylight?"

"Oh!" I blurted sarcastically. "No, I'd rather cross in the dead of night, blind and vulnerable, into a land where the Witch's magic will be working in full! That makes more sense!"

"No, it doesn't," disagreed Scarecrow, mulling over my comment.

I would have to add sarcasm to the list of things he had trouble understanding.

"Believe me, it isn't the Witch that worries me," said the Tinman.

He turned back to the Scarecrow, but stared over his head. He stared into the darkness for a few minutes while he thought about his options. Finally, he signaled his surrender with a groan.

"Can we at least get off the road, Princess? Or is that asking too much?"

"Lead the way," I told him giving an imitation curtsy.

He wandered into the woods without question and I was a tad impressed at how well he could navigate the dark. I shuffled forward one foot at a time, trying my best not trip on the tree roots. Maybe Scarecrow was right about that natural habitat.

"Here should be good," he growled.

I sat down and closed my eyes. I heard Scarecrow pick his way around me and slide to the ground. I flinched as something fuzzy touched my arm in the dark but relaxed as I recognized Cullen's bottlebrush tail.

"Think we'll meet any animals tonight?" I asked, knowing the Scarecrow would be the one answering.

"Animals that eat straw, perhaps," he said; it was crazy how easily I'd adjusted to his strange ability.

"Like deer?" I asked.

"And bunnies," he added.

"Maybe," said Tinman, joining the conversation and shocking the hell out of me. "But mostly lions, and tigers, and bears."

"Lions?" I asked, my eyes snapping open.

"Tigers?" asked Scarecrow.

"And bears," finished the Tinman. "They tend to be nocturnal feeders…"

I squinted through the darkness and saw the smirk on his face.

"Whatever your name is, you're a bit of a dick," I told him and re-closed my eyes.

This would be my second night going to sleep in this strange country. Tomorrow would be my third day away from Forks, away from mom and dad. Were they looking for me? Would I ever get back to them or would I be stuck in this nightmare forever?

I felt a hot tear slip down my cheek. I was sure Scarecrow knew, but he politely said nothing.

"Don't," growled the Tinman, sounding less sure of himself than usual.

"Don't what?" I whispered so my voice wouldn't break.

"I don't know how to deal with that shit so just stop it," the Tinman continued.

"What shit?"

"Tell her the truth, Tinman," the Scarecrow's voice cut from the darkness. "It's not polite to lie."

The familiar phrase gave me a feeling a déjà vu.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

The Tinman sighed. "The Thoughtless Wonder, just wants me to tell you why I'm on this little road trip."

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Because Rose'll hate it."

"What, the Wicked Witch? You actually want to piss off the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I hate her."

"Everyone hates her, but I don't see them going around pissing her off."

"Maybe its time someone knocked Rose off her broomstick."

I considered his words carefully. He was trying to give a guarded explanation, short and to the point, but he was revealing more than he knew.

"You're the only one who calls her, Rose. I've heard the Wicked Witch of the West, the Wicked Witch, The Black Rose of the Vinkus, The Black Rose…"

"Very good, you just know everything, don't you?"

"Not everything."

The Tinman was quiet, and for a brief moment I though he had let the subject drop, but then he added, "She's my sister."

My spine went rigid and reached up to rub my ears. I couldn't have heard that correctly.

"Can you repeat that?" I asked.

I could practically hear him roll his eyes.

"I said, Rose, the Black Rose, is my sister," he said louder. "She and I used to be inseparable. Now… Now I hate her."

"Don't leave out the best part," said Scarecrow.

"She cursed me. She took away my heart. Love, hate, anger, sorrow, joy… I can feel them when others feel them. I am not allowed to experience them myself. I'll never find love or happiness. I just am. So when I say don't start that shit, I mean don't start with the despair, the hopelessness, and the fear. You'll find no comfort from me, I don't know how. You can only make me suffer with you."

I opened my mouth to respond, closed it, opened it, closed it... I must have looked like a goldfish. I was torn between amazement and confusion and unsure of which emotion to address first.

"Why…" I guess we'd be addressing confusion then.

"Rose and I were close for a long time. We came from a good home, okay? I wasn't born… _this_…" He pulled at the collection of trophies around his neck and then ran a hand down one scarred, tattooed arm. "We wanted for nothing. We went to a University together. I majored in Political Science. Rose majored in Magical Arts.'

"Rose got those ruby slippers for her sixteenth birthday as a present from our father, so yeah, I recognized that they were not knock offs as Peter had assumed."

I was struggling to keep up. This new information was mind-boggling. I didn't know what was more unbelievable; that someone could go to school to major in Magical Arts, that the Tinman had once been well read and loveable, or that he'd fallen so far in such a short time.

"Rose fell in with the wrong crowd at school; started hanging with this bitch named Lorelle. Lorelle was vicious, but by herself she struggled with original thought formation. Rose was the one who got ideas. I pulled away from Rose when she started calling Lorelle family."

"I met a girl name Maria. Maria was studying Philosophy and she was the most fucking beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I started to court her, I wanted to marry her."

"Rose came to me one night, babbling about experiments gone wrong and I didn't want nothing to do with it. I warned her. She had talent, but she was squandering it with chaos and vanity and no good would come of it. I had a future to look out for now.'

"Rose was becoming unstable and when I mentioned Maria… I pushed her over the edge, I guess. She accused me of abandoning her when she needed me most… I guess in a way I had…"

I was afraid to ask what happened next, but now that he was speaking he wasn't stopping.

"She did something," he lowered his voice. "Did something to Maria."

I waited quietly; like a horror movie I wanted to change this channel even as the suspense urged me to peek and see what was behind the curtain.

His voice got hard and cold and he said, "When I knew what Rose had done, I tried to kill her. She didn't take the attempt on her life with good grace… and this is my punishment."

He finished in such a tone I didn't dare press him with another question although I had plenty to ask. I settled back down in the dirt and closed my eyes thinking on this new information. He hadn't told me everything. I was pretty sure he'd only given me the highlights, like some ESPN Broadcast. But as I thought about those highlights - thought about how hard a well-educated young man would have fallen to be forced into this life he now led, thought about his own sister tearing out his heart and him in turn looking for vengeance - I realized the pain inside the small details probably made them that much harder to reveal.

He said it himself; he just didn't know how to deal with emotions anymore.

As my mind grew groggy, I realized too late that tonight's sleep would not be restful. On one side of me, slept a man who was little more than a lost child. On the other side of me, keeping watch in the dark, was a man who was smart and more frighteningly, desperate. Somewhere in the dark between me and them, lay the small body of Cullen, the Familiar who was more witchdoctor than watchdog and whose motives were obscure and unannounced.

* * *

I wasn't sure what woke me when I opened my eyes to a lavender dawn. It was barely light enough to see Scarecrow sleeping a few feet away from me. I just lay in the dirt staring blankly. Part of me didn't want to acknowledge the absurdity of spending another day here.

My neck tingled with unease.

Ever feel that feeling? At night when you walk down a hallway and wonder if you're really alone? Or when the draft makes the shower curtain move like a breath?

I tried to shake the feeling and rolled over to stare at the dark sky through the canopy of tree branches. I squinted as things got more curious. Up in the branches four orange orbs burned.

Stars?

"Hey," I called softly. "Scarecrow? Wake up."

He grumbled, "Wha…?"

"What do you call those stars? Is this the only time of day you can see them?"

He rubbed his face and sat straighter and looked at me.

"What stars?" He looked up at the sky and yelled, "Wolves!"

All hell broke loose after that.

The so-called stars blinked down at me with the Scarecrow's cry and I realized with terror that they were eyes, burning in the dark. As I recognized eyes, I began to attach them to the big black masses of body that they belonged to. There were two bodies that were impossibly getting larger as they swooped down to the forest floor on enormous, barbed, leather wings.

Cullen was human in an instant and Tinman rose with his axe in hand so readily you'd think he'd been waiting for this.

Now that I could see them, they weren't what I was expecting. The Vinkus Wolves were actually much worse.

They were bipedal; standing upright on lupine like legs, swinging arms with claws more suited to a wildcat than a wolf. The wings span was massive, but it would have to be to get their substantial bodies flying. Their wolfish faces were broad enough to give the impression of an overgrown gorilla, but there was no mistaking the elongated muzzle or the fangs dripping with saliva in excitement. The orange eyes that burned with so much hatred also gleamed with some savage knowledge that was beyond animal.

"Don't you look at her, Devil," Cullen growled placing himself in front of me as my trembling knees struggled to push myself upright.

"Fine," the creature growled in human words. "I'll deal with you, Slave."

Cullen's lips curled back to reveal his own fearsome teeth.

"Tell your Mistress it is in her best interest to surrender the shoes," it growled as its silent companion flexed its wings threateningly.

"It is not in her best interest and she will do no such thing," Cullen didn't sound like he was responding to a question; more like laying down a law.

"I don't want-" I began.

"Shut your mouth!" snapped the Tinman shooting me a look almost as hateful as the one the wolves were giving Cullen.

"You're alone," the Tinman stated. "My guess is you weren't expecting a fight and now you got one."

He hefted his ax in a way that left no one any doubt what was in his mind.

"This is madness-"

"They can't be allowed to escape," Cullen agreed. "They'll give away our position."

The wolf that was doing the talking flung his wings wide and tried to thrust himself into the air… But Cullen leapt into its midriff, knocking it down. The one who had been silent didn't have time to try to flee, but from the way he watched Tinman, I guessed that was the furthest thing from his mind.

"Bella!" Scarecrow called as he tried to assist Cullen. "Run! It's you they want!"

I heard the words but it made no sense. They didn't want me. They wanted the ruby slippers. Wouldn't it just be easier to hand them over? How could he tell me to run, sacrifice their lives for the sake of magical footwear? Were they all insane?

"Scarecrow," growled Cullen, "just take her and go!"

The Scarecrow nodded and left the fight. I didn't understand until he slung me over his shoulder and began moving away. I would have kicked in resistance, but as Scarecrow tried to retreat, a halo of fiery hair caught my peripherals.

"Scarecrow-" I started to call out, but he'd already dropped me to the ground to focus on what I couldn't see.

A dagger swinging from a shadow that survived in the dim morning light; and in the shadow, James. The dagger missed me as I bounced into the ground and I looked up to see my friend panic and react.

With fierceness I'd only seen in Anne Rice movies, Scarecrow grabbed James' fist in one hand, while his other hand braced into James' chest, and sunk his teeth hard into the man's forearm. James yelled in surprise and dropped the knife.

Tinman hollered, "Cullen, rip it's wings off!"

A bloodcurdling shriek pulled me away from that scuffle as my hand clapped reflexively over my ears. A disembodied wing lay twitching on the ground as the Tinman's ax got a hit; the amount of crimson that splattered around the ground made my stomach lurch… but I couldn't give in to sickness.

Victoria was almost upon me, her sharpened talons reaching and as dangerous as James' blade. I thrust my weight up, under her homemade claws and into the soft flesh under her breastbone. The air exited her in a painful sounding gasp as we fell together. There was a devastating sounding thunk as her head collided with a tree and the force of our weight hitting the ground, broke us apart. I went spinning closer to the monsters and lay, shaking with an adrenaline overdose, staring fixedly at Victoria.

She wasn't getting back up.

Three days ago, I was just a small town girl looking for an escape. Now I was responsible for killing one witch and possibly a psychotic Munchkin.

I didn't know what else to do. Here I was in the land of dreams and nightmares, on the other side of the rainbow for all I knew, and I was useless. So I curled up in a ball, prayed, cried, and watched the war from the safety the fetal position offered.

That woman? Victoria? I could see her where she lay and she wasn't moving. I couldn't tell if she was unconscious or dead and I was beginning to think maybe it was better that way. It was better that I just didn't know.

The Scarecrow was a wild sight to see; he darted back and forth anticipating James' moves with every thought. I could hear him breathing with exertion from the fight that was both mental and physical.

The two wolves were sounding like banshees; letting out screams of fury or glee - _how could you tell? _- that hurt my eardrums to the point where I thought they might bleed. Cullen, who was looking anything but passive as he stood on his human legs with his fanged teeth bared for blood, moved like a wraith as he faced against one of the scouts. It looked clumsy in comparison, but the pure brutality in its flexing muscles didn't escape my notice.

The other scout was keeping the Tinman busy; those two looked equally brutal in combat covered in blood as they were. The Tinman had succeeded in chopping a wing from the monster's body and the spray seemed to soak him and its owner in equal shares. He hacked wildly and the monster side stepped, lunging with it dagger sharp claws for the Tinman's stomach and he in turn evaded with his own sidestep.

All this horror for a pair of shoes? They could have them. They could have anything they wanted. I didn't want the shoes. I just wanted home.

* * *

**_Sorry, no Lion yet._**

**_I do have some digital art of what the "new" werewolves should look like, to be posted on my blog, but I made it with some stock from DeviantArt. I'm just waiting for the go ahead from the stock-owners to post the pics to my blog._**

**_In case I don't hear from you before then, Happy Halloween!_**


	17. The Batsh t Hit the Fan

**God I love writing this story. That is all.**

* * *

Behind me someone grunted and branches crackled as a heavy body fell to the ground. I forced myself to my feet - I can't really say I felt much safer on the ground - and turned to see who had fallen.

The Scarecrow was upright and James had taken a sucker-punch to the face; aside from the missing teeth he also seemed to be in too much pain to get back up.

I heard a wet thud, followed by the silencing of one of the wolves voices. I turned to look and wished I hadn't.

The Tinman had managed to behead his and was now approaching Cullen's foe. But the wolf who had done the talking wasn't about to go down easy. It caught Cullen off guard; sunk its claws into Cullen's coat and instead of tearing him apart, it shoved him into the Tinman knocking them both down. The wolf's leather wings pumped powerfully, taking the creature back to the air and out of reach.

The Tinman was back on his feet in an instant, hurling his ax at the flying wolf but the weapon was too heavy and fell short. His hair swung into his eyes as he turned to look at me; then he looked passed me which was just as well. I didn't need to look at him and see the rage and bloodlust in his eyes or see the deep red dripping down his arms. I focused on Cullen, sitting in the dirt, and moved to his side as quickly as possible while avoiding the severed head, enormous body, and the Tinman.

As I sat down next to Cullen, he stiffened and swiveled to look behind me. I followed his gaze and watched as the Tinman approached Scarecrow and James. The Scarecrow looked nervous and backed away from his downed adversary.

I hadn't even noticed when Tinman had recollected his ax.

"Tinman stop," Cullen commanded, rising up from the ground. "Tinman, you have the power to stop this. This is under your control now. Stop this!"

But Tinman made no sign that he could hear Cullen's voice.

He reached out for James.

I felt ice pumping through my veins. I shouldn't fear for James; the man wanted to kill me for my shoes. But this wasn't the way either. And I was afraid to approach him, because this Tinman was clearly unhinged, armed, and deadly.

"It's over, Tinman!" I yelled.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, but that's all it was; a glance. Fleeting. No acknowledgement. No recognition. Just a look that was filled with nothingness.

He grabbed James by his knotted hair - James resisted weakly and wailed low in his throat - and proceeded to drag the weaker man over to a tree and propped him upright. He planted his foot on James chest to stop him from squiggling away.

Then he swung his arms back.

"No!" I screamed and closed my eyes; I turned my face into Cullen's leg.

I heard the ax hit and wood cracked.

My sob caught in my throat as Tinman growled, "Thank her."

James coughed.

I turned and looked.

The ax was imbedded into the tree only inches above James' head.

"I said you owe Bella a thank you. Thank. Her."

James said nothing; his terrified eyes flicked between me and the Tinman whose fingers were tracing the wooden handle of his weapon.

The Tinman pulled the ax free and knelt down to James' level.

"You see, if it weren't for her, I'd kill you. Make sure you couldn't change your mind about hunting us. But she is here. She is the one who doesn't want your blood to spill. The only one whose emotions matter. So when I say thank her, I mean you should thank her for sparing your ungodly life. Because if it were up to me…"

James looked at me again, looking kind of crazed and not all there.

He wheezed out something that sounded similar to _thank you_; the words were obscured by his tongue slipping through the bloody gap where his teeth should have been.

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

The Tinman stood James upright. "Git runnin'. Maybe you can catch up with your girlfriend."

I twisted to look and sure enough, Victoria was gone. I turned back just in time to see James disappearing into the woods.

"We won't be seeing them again," whispered Scarecrow quietly.

No one said anything after that. This silence filled the moment, chilly and uncomfortable like a draft leaking up from the basement of an old house.

He had to know we were staring at him.

"_Make sure you couldn't change your mind about hunting us."_

It was the "us" bit that bothered me. There was no _us_. Unless _us_ included myself, the Scarecrow and Cullen. Tinman was mean and unbalanced and I could handle both aspects if he weren't deadly with a wood ax and carrying a murderous rage to boot.

The Tinman looked at me and, for the first time since the wolves attacked, I thought I saw something of him inside his eyes.

"Next time I say keep walking, you'll keep walking," he said with a chuckle.

His laugh was insincere and cut short. He raised a hand to his face, but stopped when he noticed the blood. He stared at his red fingers in wonderment for two heartbeats, before dropping his hand back to his side. The Tinman shrugged carelessly as if that shiver of his shoulders explained or excused everything.

"I think I know where we are. There should be a stream a few minutes walk from here… seconds if I run. I'm gonna go clean up. I'll be right back."

As soon as the Tinman was out of sight, I was on my feet and turning to Cullen.

"Cullen? Do you remember the way back to the road?"

"I do," he answered.

"Then I say we ditch the sociopath and get the hell out of dodge."

"Agreed. I don't like what's in his mind. There's too much darkness," the Scarecrow added.

"I say no," said Cullen.

I felt like he slapped me in the face.

"No? No? Cullen, you're a guide, a protector, yada-yada. You can't tell me having Tinman along is safe?"

"I admit he's dangerous and he knows more than he shares… But Bella, have you stopped to consider what would have happened if the wolves had ambushed us, James and Victoria had ambushed us, and the Tinman wasn't here? I hate to admit weakness, but he was right when he said there are things I can't protect you from."

"You think traveling on without him is more dangerous?" The Scarecrow sounded incredulous as I felt.

"I think we are unfamiliar with this world and as desperate as it sounds, we need someone with us who knows how to survive within it."

"I am not unfamiliar with-"

"No, but you have enough trouble protecting yourself. The sociopath has volunteered."

"I can't believe we're having this discussion-" I started.

"Believe it," Cullen growled at me. "It's time you started believing in things. This isn't a dream and if you want to get home you need to believe."

I considered my options. A) I could be butchered in my sleep by a maniac with an ax. B) I could be butchered in my sleep by a wolf with wings.

How did I decide? By which death would be quickest?

"While I hate to say anything in his favor, I will admit, you're not the one he's most likely to murder…" The Scarecrow inclined his head toward Cullen.

Cullen's eyes widened in surprise and I tried not to smirk.

"Want to change your vote?" I asked.

"No," Cullen growled. "My concern is you, safe."

"Are you ready to go?" The Tinman announced his return, interrupting us.

We turned as one and stared at him. He was dripping wet, but the blood was gone from his skin and clothes. He stared innocently at us, as if he had no idea what we were discussing, but then how could he not know? The guilt on our faces must have been clearly visible, especially to him.

"Bella?" Cullen asked. "It's up to you."

The Tinman terrified me. I didn't want to turn my back on him, never mind travel with him, but Cullen made a point. No one knew how to survive better than a survivalist.

"Fine," I acquiesced.

The Tinman nodded and said, "Let's go then."

I watched him walk out of sight the Scarecrow grabbed my arm before I could follow.

"Bella, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No, I'm not sure," I said. "But we do need him."

"I don't trust him, Bella."

"Then that makes you smarter than you think you are. Come on, we're falling behind."

* * *

We caught up quickly; in fact, after our encounter with the scouts, I was eager to make it to the city before the next night fell. I found myself leading next to Tinman with Cullen dropping back to take point next to Scarecrow. It was a difficult situation; like the Scarecrow I didn't trust the Tinman. I was scared to look at him, but even more afraid to turn my back on him.

I wasn't stupid; if there ever had been a time in his life when he acted in the interests of others that time certainly wasn't now. He was only helping us because he wanted to screw over his sister. As soon as a motive more appealing came his way, he'd be putting the knife in my back instead of hers.

The woods were changing. The wilderness looked less cared for, but the road looked more traveled. The trees were quiet; they were too tightly placed to register the breeze in their branches. Birds chattered noisily as we passed under them and one could almost imagine lions, tigers and bears, the so-called nocturnal feeders, watching us lazily from their resting places. Golden eyes blinking in shadow and sun observing as the strange company marched by carrying with it a tension thick as tar.

If the Tinman could feel what others felt he had to feel that tension. He had to know he was only along because of our own weaknesses; he was as much a threat as he was a companion.

The Tinman spoke out, "That's not me you know."

"What's not you?" I asked; it was more out of reflex than curiosity.

"That's part of the curse," he said quietly.

I didn't understand what he was talking about and I told him so.

He reached his ax over in slow motion, using the object like tollbooth gate, stopping me from moving forward. He left in front of me, floating harmlessly, even though I cringed away from it. I remembered the damage it could cause in his hands.

I turned to glare at him.

"I told you," he spoke quietly, as if he were afraid the birds would overhear. "I don't experience emotion for myself anymore. Least of all, bloodlust and hatred."

"I understand you're trying to make a point but I don't-"

"That was them."

"What was _them_?" I asked the infuriating man.

"I _feel_ the emotions of others. I take what they give and I use it against them."

I gasped as I understood what he was trying to tell me. I remembered the hatred burning in the wolves orange eyes and I remembered the lack of emotion when the surviving monster fled the scene of the crime. I remembered Cullen's bizarre command and the Tinman's announcement that my emotions mattered.

"See why I live in the woods? I'm more vulnerable to attack than I'd like to admit."

I was trying to formulate a response to his words, one that wouldn't sound as cruel and paranoid as I felt, but the words were replaced with an exclamation of surprise.

"What the hell?"

A loud crackle pulled our attention from our current troubles, bringing the conversation to a halt. Another crackle and our heads tilted up. A dark, solid shape was sitting in the tree branches above us. My heart hammered in my chest as I thought of the wolves and then there came a rushing thunder of numerous crackling, snapping, breaking branches. We all froze as the huge body rode an enormous limb down in a wave of twigs and bark and other debris.

At the last second, common sense clicked on and I leapt back from the avalanche. The Scarecrow, sidetracked by my movement, did nothing; he stood there taking his eyes from the falling mass to look confusedly at me. The Tinman crouched and covered his head for the impact-

There was impact.

Branches and bodies sprawled out across the yellow brick road. I stood with my mouth forming a perfectly shaped but silent O, stupid with shock. Could you really blame me? It wasn't everyday porn stars fell out of trees.

Okay, he may not have been a porn star but he did look the part.

This man on the ground couldn't have bought a tighter shirt if he'd wanted too. His muscles were enormous; his tan wasn't as impressive as Scarecrow's but there was no denying that the color threw his curves into sharp relief. His skin looked slick with sweat and filthy; but I suppose climbing trees would be a strenuous activity.

The stranger clambered to his feet faster than either the Tinman or the Scarecrow and that's when I began to worry. As pretty as his muscles were, he was a skyscraper against a backdrop of headstones. This man was enormous, his size rivaling that of the wolves that attacked us this morning.

His face didn't look unkind, but his ice-colored eyes froze me where I stood because he didn't look happy to see us either. And Scarecrow and Tinman were still on the ground recovering from the crash and trying to process the same information I was struggling to understand.

A giant had fallen out of a tree.

The giant moved fast; his heavy fists moved up to protect his face as his legs took the fighter's stance. I leapt away giving him his room. You didn't need to be a genius to guess his fists would carry the impact of a boulder.

"Put 'em up, put 'em up!" He roared. "Which one of you first? I'll fight you both together if you want. I'll fight you with my eyes closed!"

Neither Scarecrow nor Tinman rose to take the challenge. Mind reading? Sure it came in handy in a fight, but when you're opponent was like a steamroller, strategy became a moot point. That ax? It was only an advantage as long as the Tinman held it. If the giant wrestled it free…

The Tinman trembled and tightened his grip on the ax; the giant noticed.

"Oh! Pulling an axe on me, eh? Sneaking up on me, eh?" His body jerked forward aggressively.

The Tinman shook his head so fast his necklaces jangled.

"Come on, get up and fight, you shivering junkyard!" The big man bellowed. "Put your hands up, you lopsided bag of-"

"Now that's getting personal!" snapped the Scarecrow; he seemed to take himself by surprise and reached up to cover his mouth with one hand.

"Yes," the Tinman blurted, "Get up and teach him a lesson."

The Scarecrow dropped his hand at that. "What's wrong with you teaching him?"

"I-I hardly know him," stuttered the Tinman absent mindedly, never taking his gaze from the wild giant.

But the stutter caught my attention. When did the Tinman ever stutter from fear? An emotion he couldn't actually feel?

"_I feel the emotions of others. I take what they give and I use it against them."_

It was hunch. A flimsy one. I was about to take a big gamble based on a flimsy hunch. If I was wrong I'd probably die. But like Cullen said, the time had come to believe. And I was going to believe in a flimsy hunch.

Cullen began barking; the big man twisted to look at the distraction giving me an opening.

"Shame on you!" I yelled.

His face twisted to mine, but his hands remained defensive against the dog. I threw my picnic basket at his face with all the strength I could muster. It hit him square on the nose. The man reached up and clutched at his nose and let out a wail.

Scarecrow and Tinman took the moment to get off the ground and do something other than cower. They, like me, placed a safer amount of distance between themselves and him.

The big man staggered away from us, probably hoping to recede into the woods, but a tree at his back stopped him.

"What'd you do that for? I didn't hurt you!" The man babbled.

"You tried too!" I took a step forward in outrage.

He seemed to be more worried about his nose than me.

"Is it bleeding?" he mumbled to himself more than to me, glancing at his hand for evidence of blood.

"What a fuss you're making! You're nothing but a great big coward!" I accused.

"You're right, I am a coward! I haven't any courage at all. I even scare myself…" he let out a short sob.

"Oh, Jeepers Criminy!" I shouted at no one in particular.

Was everyone in this world batshit crazy?


	18. The Coward's Got Baggage

He was big enough to pose a threat, but I was sure that he would give us no more trouble. I approached him slowly, looking up into his face. His eyes looked wary and fearful.

"Bella...?" Scarecrow's voice hung in the air.

"Let me see," I demanded.

"Why?" he asked shrinking back.

"Because I didn't mean to hurt you," I told him.

"Then why'd you do it?" he questioned my motives.

Tinman snorted. "He's got you there, Darlin'."

"Because I was afraid you were going to hurt me and my friends," I explained.

I reached out slowly, cautiously, but the giant seemed willing enough. With my right hand, I peeled his away from his face; with my left hand, I angled his head down further to see his nose. I touched the bridge of his nose and ran my finger down to the tip before letting go and stepping away.

"It's not broken," I told him. "You might have a bruise tomorrow. What were you doing in the tree, anyways?"

"Hiding… I know all about being afraid," he answered.

"Hiding from what?"

"Eh…" he shrugged and his cheeks tinged pink. "My quarry got a little out of hand."

"Quarry? You're a hunter?" I asked.

For all the talk of lions, tigers, and bears, the most dangerous thing in these woods seemed to be witchcraft and robbery.

"I'm sort of a bounty hunter…" he hedged.

"Not to interrupt this fascinating discovery, but…" the Tinman's sneering voice pulled my attention around.

"But what?" I asked.

The Tinman was staring at the stranger like a puzzle that needed solving. Actually, now that I noticed it, so was the Scarecrow.

"Have we met before?" The Tinman asked.

"No, I think I'd remember."

The Tinman cocked his head. "Maybe you tried to arrest me?"

"Eh, no. I never forget a felon. Do you need arresting?"

"No, no," the Tinman backpedaled. "But I'm sure I've seen your face before."

"Just as I'm sure you haven't."

Without another word, the giant crossed from his side of the road to ours. We shuffled away on autopilot to watch him. He bent over and rummaged around in the briar growing along the edges of the forest. I leaned closer to get a better look at what it was he was doing, when he stood upright, practically yanking the plants with him to pull free a heavy jacket. He snapped the brown leather trench coat to flick the dirt off and folded it over his arm. My eyes widened when I realized the entire coat was lined with brown fur. Apparently, PETA did not exist on this side of the rainbow.

"I have trouble with my memory," announced the Scarecrow randomly, "and I hate to agree with anything the Tinman thinks… But you do bare a resemblance to someone I might've known at one time or another…"

The big man ran a hand over his close-cropped hair and grumbled something inaudible before saying forcefully, "Look! You don't know me and I don't know you and I'd like to keep it that way if it's all the same, eh?"

"But it's not all the same…" mumbled the Scarecrow.

"Not that I'm opposed to puttin' a bit of distance 'tween you an me… But what kind of bounty hunter hides from his catch? Don't you guys get paid per head?" Tinman's voice was arrogant and teasing as he gained more confidence.

The bounty hunter growled with exasperation, not that I could blame him. Tinman's personality was not something that anyone wanted to be exposed to for long periods.

"Will you ever give your mouth a rest?" I snapped.

"Mmm…" he purred. "Kitten's got claws today, does she?"

"…and he calls me the Thoughtless Wonder…" muttered Scarecrow.

I giggled and Tinman scowled.

"Please," I said to the bounty hunter, "I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name's Bella."

"Call me Leo," said the bounty hunter, extending an enormous hand to me.

I reached out to shake on the introduction, watching with fascination as my hand disappeared inside of his. But the moment of geniality was lost when the Tinman exploded into laughter.

The Tinman laughed until his face was purple and, with an air of frivolity I hadn't seen from him before, he wrapped his arms around himself and collapsed to the ground where he began to kick and writhe. Scarecrow chuckled quietly at first, and then louder until he trembled at the unspoken joke.

"I… told… you…" the Tinman choked through his laughter. "I knew you."

"I don't understand, what's funny?" I asked.

"The Cowardly Lion!" exclaimed the Scarecrow pointing at the bounty hunter. "I heard the gossip in Siobhan's head."

"And for those of us…who don't mind-read…the Daily News was good!"

Leo growled and his cheeks turned scarlet. He pulled a knit cap from his pocket, tugged it down over his ears, and marched off down the path.

"Great fun!" he called over his shoulder, not sounding at all sincere. "But I need to get back to the city."

The city?

"Hey, wait!" I called running after him, leaving my friends to their hysterics. "You mean the Emerald City?" I asked as I caught up to him.

He stopped and stared at me for a moment and then nodded. "Aye. You're on the Yellow Merchant Road, Bella. Didn't you know?"

"I was just told to follow the Yellow Brick Road and it'd take me to the Emerald City," I explained.

"Huh, that's weird." He shrugged. "But all the major trade routes were color coordinated by direction and assembled to hit all the major capitals to simplify trade and travel. The Yellow Brick Road starts east and goes west… It cut straight through the world's trade center, Emerald City and the First Port of Oz."

"The First Port of Oz?" I asked.

"A canal was built from the Western Ocean to Oz. Architectural genius, really, building a 4,000 mile canal. The ocean rushed inland and the ships were launched out from the center of Oz practically. If you want to get technical, it's really the twenty third port to be built in Oz, but it's now the only one that matters."

A man made canal that was over four thousand miles long? That must have taken decades to build, especially taking into account that these people didn't seem to possess the modern day mechanics that existed in the real world. And more mind boggling than that concept of a handmade, manmade waterway that stretched thousands of miles was that they wouldn't have done it if there weren't somewhere to go.

A land beyond Oz?

The thought was overwhelming.

"My friends and I are on our way to the Emerald City. We need to see the Wizard of Oz. Do you know how much further?"

"Depends how fast you walk," said Leo. "You're four hours away now."

I felt my eyes light with excitement. He noticed too and smiled in response, revealing enormous dimples that enlivened his entire face. The dimples disappeared from sight as footsteps fast approached behind me. His back went rigid as he stared down my ungracious companions.

I turned to look; the Scarecrow at least had the decency to look ashamed. The Tinman had stopped laughing but the grin on his face was no less wicked.

"He's heading to the Emerald City, too! He says we're only a few hours away!"

"I could have told you that," sneered the Tinman. "Did Lion-" Scarecrow snorted but managed to keep the smile away "-I mean, did Leo manage to tell you something useful?"

Cullen shifted human and stood upright. Leo yelped as he witnessed the transformation for the first time, which sent Scarecrow and Tinman into another round of titters. Leo put his hand on my back, firmly wedging myself between Cullen and himself.

"What is that abomination?"

"He's a Familiar. He won't hurt you."

"A Familiar? As in a witch's Familiar?" Leo retracted his hand from my back and backed away.

"I'm not a witch!" I yelled losing my temper.

I am not being unreasonable. Why does he automatically think I'm a witch? The Scarecrow reads minds. The Tinman feels the emotions of others and channels that emotion into murderous rages. So how is it everyone thinks I'm the one with the power?

"Doesn't matter much," shrugged Leo, looking a bit nervous. "A Familiar is bad enough…"

"I beg your pardon?" Cullen asked sounding affronted.

"He thinks you're a product of devilry," laughed the Scarecrow.

Cullen shook his head. "Well, _Lion_ better deal with it."

"Cullen!" I snapped; I thought he had better sense than that.

He continued, "Look, we are all going to the same place and we're all together _now,_ so I when I say deal with it, I mean let's make the best of this situation."

"Then you should say what you mean. Especially since it's something we can all agree on. I don't think anyone wants another encounter with those wolves, right?"

"Right," said Tinman. It was the first sensible thing he had said in a while.

"Then can we go?" I asked, wanting to move this party along now that those horrors had returned to my mind.

The Scarecrow nodded, the Tinman shrugged, and Cullen shrunk into his fur.

"Lead the way…" drawled Tinman, smirking before adding, "…_Lion_."

Leo groaned, shook his head, and without another word he set off down the yellow brick road, as my unofficial fourth companion. Tinman took a step to follow after but I stepped in his path and boldly pressed my hand to his chest to stop him. His eyes darted to my hand and to back to my face and the he smirked. I didn't have to be highly knowledgeable about the opposite sex to know what he was thinking.

I growled this time.

"You will stop, Tinman," I ordered.

"Stop what?" he asked.

"You know what."

I looked at Scarecrow who was now staring at my hand on Tinman's chest. I removed my hand and pointed and accusing finger at him.

"You will stop too. We've got enough problems; we don't need to piss off any more people than we already have. Four hours to the Wizard and you can get your brain, Tinman his heart, and I can go home. So let's play nice a little while, okay?"

"Yes," said Scarecrow obediently.

The Tinman said nothing so I turned back and gave him the evil eye.

He finally responded by rolling his and saying, "Whatever you say, Princess."

I had managed to catch up with our new friend, but Scarecrow and Tinman seemed to agree for a change and trailed respectfully behind. Cullen was far enough behind them that I could no longer here his nails, clicking on the bricks; a glance over my shoulder confirmed that he was still with us. I couldn't tell if he was last to give Leo some peace of mind or to keep watch for any more trackers that might have taken an interest in our group. Either way it gave me peace of mind; the Tinman was still behind me, still carrying that ax. I trusted Scarecrow to watch my back, as comically timid as he could be, but a second pair of eyes certainly couldn't hurt.

I stopped paying so much attention to the scenery and observed Leo. There was something about his posture that bothered me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. The Tinman swayed and slouched about; if the scars weren't enough of a warning, his walk was typically criminal. The Scarecrow moved like Patrick Swayze; when he walked, he _walked_… confidence was his. However, this newcomer didn't slink like an alley cat nor did he strut like a tom. He marched like a soldier, with bold, unwavering momentum, straight-backed and determined, but the twitch in his face gave him away. Every time a branch crackled, a tree groaned, or a bird chirped unexpectedly, he flinched with nervous tension.

I decided to approach the subject.

"So Leo," I asked quietly, still mildly intimidated by the size of the young man. "Why do my friends keep calling you the Cowardly Lion and laughing?"

"Hmmph!" Leo snorted. "Cowardly Lion… Indeed!"

"We call him the Cowardly Lion-" I growled as Tinman's voice butted into our conversation "-because Lion Heart here was assigned to be a bodyguard to the Royal family; Princess Tanya's own personal guard."

The Scarecrow chuckled and the Lion growled.

"Oz has a Princess?" I asked, being sidetracked.

"Oh, yes," said the Scarecrow. "A whole royal family, in fact."

"And when an assassin tried to kill Her Royal Highness-"

"Failed!" yelled Leo. "He tried but failed-"

"No thanks to you!" The Tinman laughed.

The Scarecrow shook his head and chuckled. "Is it true you tried to hide under her dress?"

"No! I tripped! I tripped I tell you!" Leo roared.

"I tried to get in Maria's skirts once or twice," announced Tinman. "I didn't call it tripping though…"

"Shut. Up." I barked. "We had a deal."

"Did we now?" asked the Tinman teasingly, but he fell back a couple steps.

"What really happened?" I asked politely.

"Does it matter much?" Leo murmured, looking sad now.

"I think it matters to you," I guessed aloud and then regretted it as his face fell further. "I didn't mean to upset you, I was just curious. Everyone has a story and I wondered what yours was… I'll stop talking."

To my surprise, Leo gave in.

"My story is longer than most. I'm from Quadling Country initially, born and raised in the far south. We have tradition there-"

"Little else, I'd wager," muttered Tinman.

"-and family. And conscription."

"Conscription? You're military? I thought you were a bounty hunter?"

"I was military. Was. Don't jump ahead, eh? The bounty hunting comes later."

"Sorry," I blushed.

"Only three years of servitude are required. After that, we're allowed to leave if we wish, although many don't. Not many options available to Quadling folk. Plenty of jewel mines and artisans but if digging and drawing aren't your thing, the military is really the only thing left.'

"Unfortunately, another thing my country is plagued with is civil unrest. War is on and off. When I got drafted it was on."

"How old?"

"Sixteen."

I flinched.

There was a war going on in my country too, but I was removed from it. It wasn't actually in my country after all. It was over seas and I only heard about it on the news when the images were released from the desert two weeks later. Americans soldiers dead, insurgents dead, civilians dead. I got the luxury of not being the one to risk my life for a cause because some other soul volunteered to protect that luxury.

I couldn't imagine being given papers and a gun and told to go stand in a line. But then you add in the civil part? The part where a commanding officer might order me to turn that gun on my own people?

"I suppose I got luckier than some. I got out with my life at the end of three years. I was unfortunate enough to witness the Ovvels Bridge Market Massacre or rather the aftermath."

"Ovvels Bridge Market Massacre?" the Scarecrow piped up. "I don't think that was a military maneuver?"

"Of course it wasn't a military maneuver!" Leo yelled. "We live differently, but we aren't barbarians."

"So aside from pervin' up the Princess, you didn't even see action? _Marsh_mallow."

Leo dropped his coat and whirled on the Tinman so fast the wind of his movement nearly knocked me over. He curled his fists into meaty rocks and shook them at Tinman. His face turned red, and then puce, as his anger rose up.

"You weren't there!" His voice roared out so loud my ears popped. "You weren't there! You weren't there to clean up the mess!" He took a step closer and I thought the Tinman was going to be clobbered. "The marketplace burned down trapping vendors and customers alike! You didn't see husbands and wives; burnt corpses that clutched each other in death! You didn't see the bodies in the river! Children! Parents tried to fling their children to safety but the smell of burning flesh brought the crocodiles searching! Babes ripped to shreds and gobbled down in chunks! What the crocs didn't want floated down to the next village!"

The Tinman said nothing and I felt my legs getting weak as images of blood and smoke filled my mind.

"Don't you stand there, you smug bastard, and tell me I didn't see _action_! You weren't the one scouring the river and reeds for _parts!_ You weren't the one to find the survivor!"

"The survivor?" I asked my nauseous stomach more than him; the Scarecrow added, "There were no survivors…?"

"No! By the time the papers were published, there were no survivors! The eight year old bitten in half was a cruel trick of nature! Her life stayed in her long enough to be dis-discovered. I held her as she… she passed."

He cleared his throat noisily.

"We cleaned the mess and oversaw the beginning of construction for a new bridge. When I got my notice of release, I took it."

Leo turned without another word at to the Tinman who looked truly speechless for the first time since I'd met him. He bent down for his coat; I noticed how he held it tight to himself with one hand and stroked the fur collar with the other. Like a child with a security blanket, not that I was about to judge him for that. From the sound of things, he'd earned himself some security.

I shook my head at the now quiet crook and turned and to follow Leo, but this time I trailed behind him. Selfishly, always selfishly when my curiosity was involved, I had wished Tinman and Scarecrow had kept their traps shut. How did a man go from being a brave soldier to a disgraced bodyguard to a bounty hunter who hid in trees?

What the hell happened?

* * *

_A little more Gregory Maguire bleed through here. His second book in the Wicked Years, the main character burns down a village-bridge. I've changed the village to a market place but I'd be lying if I didn't mention him as the inspiration for this chapter._

_Also, as much of this chapter was written on Vetran's Day, I'd give thanks everyday that men and woman volunteer to fight for our country so I can write fanfiction from the safety of my home. I hope they stay safe and come home soon._


	19. The Field of Broken Arrows

It wasn't a long walk out of the woods, but the tension had returned full force. It wasn't just emotional anymore; it was climatic. The air itself seemed heavier, colder, and I told myself it was my imagination. I'd been in this world too long; I needed to get out before something killed me.

What was the myth? If you died in your dream, you died in real life?

I wasn't looking to prove the rumor one way or another.

"You're being morbid," the Scarecrow said. "No one's going to kill you."

_Stay out of my head,_ I griped.

"Believe me, I wish I could… But the air has changed because we've neared the city, the canal. You feel the ocean. Not death."

My feet moved a little faster. They were aching but I wasn't stopping until we'd reached the safety of the city. I was sick of monsters, nature and unexpected guests. When the wizard sent me home, I was going straight to my parents and demanding we move to Seattle, where I can lock myself into an apartment. People will need a secret password to get by the Hulk Hogan doorman.

The yellow brick road veered left; the trees thinned and a few long branches framed the exit. Sky had never looked so brilliant before, but it paled in comparison to what loomed on the horizon.

An unmistakable city skyline; majestic skyscrapers reared up from the horizon reaching for the space above. Each building competed in grandeur. There were windows that glittered like diamonds, lightening rods that vied for dominance, and a faint green luminescence cloaking the sight.

I blinked in shock. I reached up to rub my eyes and blinked again, hoping they'd adjust to the light. But when I focused on the city again, the green color remained.

"It's green!"

The Tinman snorted. "Well, duh."

I looked at him and was too dumbfounded to think about hitting him.

"You mean the city really is made out of emeralds?"

I couldn't believe it and my mind tried to sort through those logistics; had they use emeralds as bricks? Those would have been massive! Where would they have gotten such gems?

But the Tinman laughed and managed to bark out, "What?"

Leo turned and eyed the Tinman with disdain. "What on earth have you been telling her, you great bully?"

Tinman stopped laughing to glare at Leo. "I haven't been telling her anything, Lion. She was well on her way to the city before I got involved. Scarecrow's the one who shoulda told her."

"Told her?" The Scarecrow asked, offended. "How would I know _that_? I never went to school. I've never been off the farm. I didn't know the orchards had a protection spell. I never learned anything except for how to scare crows!"

"Hey!" I yelled trying to break up the next argument before it could grow. "What should I know?"

The Tinman's face twitched in irritation but he gestured to Leo.

Leo looked surprised at the deference and cleared his throat before explaining.

"The Emerald City isn't made out of actual emeralds. It's more like a sort of water fungus… an algae."

"What?"

"The city was originally named for the port, First City. But the problem with bringing the ocean inland was the wet air followed it. The wind carries the mist and spores, the spores attach to the buildings and grow and spread… They have people who clean the windows and streets for safety issues, but they gave up on keeping everything clean. It's just not possible. And the algae isn't poisonous so it's not creating a health hazard. But as you can see the city looks very green…like emeralds."

I stared back at the green hued metropolis in awe. I think the idea of emerald bricks might have been more believable than people living in a world covered in algae.

"Makes you wonder, don't it?" The Tinman asked.

"About?" I asked absently.

I could hear the grin in his voice as he replied, "What's in a name?"

Leo shifted his weight. "Eh, they just wanted to put a noble spin on a natural oddity. S'not as if headlines reading First City, Home of Fast Growing Fungus was going to get a good reading. The Emerald City, International Trade Capital, has a better ring."

Tinman growled and I looked at him; watched his eyes harden. But he was looking out at the city too.

"It's always about presentation. No one's interested in the heart of the matter anymore."

I frowned too because I wasn't so sure we were talking about the city. I stared at him until he looked at me. I could sense the darkness that haunted him hadn't gone very far this time, but he was controlling himself and I was too cowardly to confront it. But as carefree as Tinman tried to appear, I was beginning to suspect the crook was very tightly wound.

"We still have to cross the field," the Scarecrow worried. "Let's get going."

As far as fields go, it was a beautiful thing to have to journey through. There was something primitive in the wild grass, the way it whispered in the breeze and fell flat without it. The sight of vacant space left me feeling lonely while filling me with the paranoid delusion of being watched. It was like a scene out of a western and I half expected to see a lone cowboy riding out to greet us.

We walked the path a lot more steadily now that we could see our destination. When the light started to change, my first thought was dusk was settling in. I didn't want to spend one more night out in the wilds of Oz. I looked down at my feet and walked faster; which might be why I didn't notice Tinman had stopped walking and bumped into him.

I looked at him in surprise. Tinman was looking up at the sky with a look of speculation on his face. He'd been rushing us since the beginning and now he wanted to watch the sky change?

"The sun hasn't set," he said, pointing up.

I looked up and saw that billowing lavender clouds were swirling in over the field. The sun burned behind the cover, a silver dot in a lavender mist.

"I've never seen clouds like that before…" I whispered without surprise.

There was a lot in this world I hadn't seen before.

"I have," he whispered.

Leo had stopped up ahead and was glancing between the clouds and the city. The clouds didn't even reach the city. They only hovered over the field.

"What is it?" I asked.

"My sister," he answered. "She's watching us. She got this crystal ball from a gypsy in Quadling. It serves multiple purposes. The purple clouds are a side affect of using it for spying. Negative magic always has a mark… But why would she be watching the pass…"

I felt a tingle run down my spine just before Scarecrow called out.

"What's that?"

I looked at him and followed his finger out. Something ruby red was moving, spreading, around the perimeter of the field. I spun on a hunch and realized the red was creeping around the _entire_ perimeter. Then the color exploded over the acres of grass, with the fluidity of blood from an artery, the ruby wave undulating nearer and nearer.

A sweet scent rolled in with the breeze.

"Broken Arrows!" shouted Tinman.

"Blood Poppies!" shouted Scarecrow.

"Run!" screamed Leo.

I started to run but Scarecrow yanked me back.

"The trees are closer!"

He started to pull me along but Tinman grabbed us both.

"The city's closer!"

I looked left and looked right. The trees were no closer than the city. We were smack dab in the middle of the distance. I hadn't come this far just to retreat and Leo was already moving toward the city. The city. There'd be people there. Normal people who didn't want to kill me.

"The Emerald City," I called out and started running.

Tinman and Scarecrow were both faster than I was and they each grabbed a hand as they passed by. They dragged me along trying to catch up with Leo whose long legs seemed to make up for his enormous mass.

Leo yelped and skidded to a stop. Something red was blocking his path. He turned to change his propulsion and froze. As we caught up, we could see the rich colored flowers, on thorny creepers covering the path ahead. Behind us, the flowers were covering our only other option for retreat and they were closing the distance.

The four of us stood, panting with exertion and staring at the floral menace.

"I don't. Understand. They're. Just. Flowers." I asked through gasps.

"Blood Poppies don't grow in this region!" yelled Leo.

"Broken Arrows are poisonous!" The Tinman pushed me behind him so I was wedged at the center of a human triangle.

"Carnivorous," the Scarecrow added. "They poison you first. Once you're weak, they tie you to the ground. They use those thorns to suck the blood dry."

I peeked around Tinman's arm. I watched the tendrils creeping, searching; Scarecrow shuffled back a few inches as a vine got closer to his feet.

"Why did they slow down?" I whispered, afraid they'd hear my voice and strike.

"Why the hell not, eh? They've got us trapped!" Leo chimed in taking a step back and tightening the vice of human flesh surrounding me.

"We can't just stand here and wait!" I yelled, trying not to freak out.

I woke up in a fairytale. I killed one witch and pissed off another. I spoke to a talking cow. Enchanted apple trees, robbers, and flying werewolves attacked me and I survived. A little flower wasn't going to take me out now.

Except there were a lot of little flowers.

"This is witchcraft!" Leo pressed back a little more and I felt a nervous tremble run through his spine.

"The Wicked Witch!" cried Scarecrow.

"Tinman, could she do this?" I asked.

"She always did have a thing for gardening."

Then I heard a sound that just about tore the heart right out of my chest. A short howl, that quickly turned to a squeal of pain. I looked down and Cullen was not there. I looked out over the mass of red blossoms covering the pathway until a flurry of floral movement caught my eye.

"What is that?"

"Shit! The mutt!"

"Bella, no!

I started running. It wasn't the brightest move I ever made, but he was my friend and he was out there. The vines reached up and grabbed at my legs; I ripped free and kept moving, knocking the vicious plant aside as I ran. The scent became stronger as I kicked out at the blood red blossoms, but I was almost there.

"Scarecrow!" Tinman yelled out.

I glanced back as Scarecrow came running after me, then I reached down and began ripping up the vines that were strangling Cullen. I managed to pull him free with one arm, but not before a vine managed to grab my other, sinking its thorns into my wrist. I yelled in pain and shock.

"Help me Tinman!" the Scarecrow called. "Leo!"

I heard the Tinman growl and the vines swished as his heavy feet stomped them down, but to my surprise Cullen's warm, limp body slipped from my arm. I watched the tawny fur disappear in the mass of quivering red.

Why did I just drop him?

"Bella! Focus!" The Scarecrow shook me and then attempted to pull my arm free.

My knees went weak and I fell onto them; it felt like I could not hold my head up. It was too heavy.

"I'm so sleepy," I muttered confused. Plants were trying to eat me. Now wasn't the time. "I need to rest."

The world was beginning to feel very far away.

"No, you can't rest, Bella!"

I ignored Scarecrow and turned to look out at the mess my friends and I were now facing. The Tinman was swinging his ax at a vine that held his leg; he missed it and another vine ripped the weapon from his grasp. Leo hadn't been grabbed yet, but he was shaking and muttering.

"…can't happen yet... not done… it wasn't my fault… couldn't save her…" Leo rambled. Then his face went slack and he looked at a flower that had risen to head level. He spoke normally, "I haven't slept in weeks, just look at the circles under my eyes…" and he collapsed into the waiting plant.

"Help!" the Tinman screamed at the top of his lungs.

_What a ridiculous way to waste energy,_ I thought.

"No one will hear you, we're too far out!" the Scarecrow yelled, just before the Tinman collapsed.

"Someone help!" he then screamed himself.

I looked at Cullen, Tinman, and Leo, all disappearing under the hungry plant. They looked peaceful. I looked at Scarecrow whose eyes were beginning to droop. He swayed on his feet. I nodded to myself.

_Peaceful,_ I thought to myself as gravity pulled me toward the ground.

My mind went dark before my body could register the impact.

* * *

_Muahahah! _

_What are your thoughts on my version of the poppy field?_


	20. The Capital Part 1

_It is so cold,_ I thought. _Death is cold._ I suppose I would be asking too much for death to be warm. I felt my body jerked spasmodically and I tried to curl up to conserve body heat but my limbs felt tied. I panicked, thrashed, and stilled as a sharp pain bit into my arm.

Pain? I could feel pain?

My eyelids fluttered in response and they burned at the bright light that seemed to be everywhere. I blinked my eyes, half-expecting to see Grandma Swan appear, but slowly I began to adjust. It was not light I was seeing, it was snow. I gazed at the blanket of white and tilted my head up to see the platinum snow clouds passing overhead. I tried to move again, and again the sharp pain coursed through the skin of my arms. I twisted my head in another direction; I saw the rusted vines and the blackening flowers wilting under the snow…

_Blood Poppies._

The bloodsucking flowers from hell. They hadn't managed to kill me before the snow could kill them. I sat up slowly; my brain seemed to throb inside my skull with the movement and I swear I could hear the sound of my own eyelids blinking. Is this what a hangover felt like?

I pointed my bleary eyes down at the arm that hurt the most. I yelped in surprise and cringed as the sharp sound bit me in my metaphorical butt. A vine had wrapped itself around my arm and the needlelike thorns had injected themselves under my skin. Carefully, I pulled the first thorn… it slipped out without trouble and a small speck of blood bubbled up to cover the wound. There was nothing else I could do; I tried not to look too closely as I pulled out the next thorn. One by one, the brittle hypodermics slipped out, until my arm was free.

The other vines, the ones holding my legs, hadn't pierced the heavy material of my borrowed pants. I pulled my legs free and sat up, feeling the headache recede.

I looked out over the landscape at the Emerald City. Earlier, the green towers had looked so welcoming and so close… Now the city seemed so very far away…

_How ridiculous we thought we could run there…_

_We._

I leapt to my feet.

The snowflakes were still falling like ashes of a forest fire, the icons of chaos, destruction, and fear ravaging the landscape.

"Scarecrow!" I screamed. "Cullen!"

Where were they in all this mess? Were they even alive?

"Tinman! Leo!"

_Think_, I told myself. _Where were they when they fell?_

Cullen popped into my head, first. I'd been running to him, after all. I turned and began feeling through the dead vines - shaking them to knock the snow clear - until I spotted the sandy fur among the malevolent weeds. I fell to my knees and pulled his warm little body into my arms; celebrating that warmth. I knew that the warmth was separating my friend from the death that surrounded his delicate body.

Scarecrow.

He'd been closest to me when he fell, I was sure of it. I set Cullen down in the vacant patch were my own body had lain. I began searching the weeds for Scarecrow. I found him, looking pale in his wreath of rust and white. I reached my hand in slowly, pressing a finger to the artery in his neck. When I felt his pulse surging beneath my fingertips, hot tears burned down my frostbit cheeks.

"Wake up," I whispered. "I need you to wake up!"

I shook him; his head flopped to the side.

"I don't want to be alone in this!" I yelled. "Wake! Up!"

I slapped him and his body gave a jerk at the stimulus. I slapped him again and his eyes began to flutter.

"Scarecrow! I need help!"

I went to slap him again, but his hand grabbed my own. I froze and stared down into his confused face.

"Why are you hitting me? Have I done something wrong?" he asked.

I laughed; I felt like a crazy person.

"No, you foolish man," I told him.

The images flooded my head in an overwhelming rush. I thought about the poppies swarming the field like a red plague and about Cullen falling under their crushing weight. I remembered the intoxicating smell as we lost our senses and lay down in the lethal plant. I thought about the once thriving plant now dying with the surprise of a freak snow flurry.

He struggled to sit upright, but the vines around his torso prevented him from going far. I helped untangle him and tried not to look at the red dots sinking into his shirt. I pulled him to his feet and he looked around.

"Unusual weather we're having," he muttered, swaying on his feet.

The Scarecrow shook his head to clear it.

"The others are alright, too." He tapped a finger to his forehead. "I can hear them dreaming."

I felt myself relax at his words. He seemed confident in his assessment, which made me feel a whole lot better. I had no desire to put any one of my new friends in the ground.

Scarecrow nodded to a small dune of snow and began kicking the frozen powder away. Tinman was tangled worse than Scarecrow. It seems the plant had put up a more aggressive fight when it realized Tinman wanted to strike back. His legs and arms were pinned individually. A mass of dead flowers circled his chest, neck and face.

I bent down beside him and he mumbled something through frozen lips. He was waking up. As Scarecrow began working on Tinman's legs, I began removing the vines that wrapped around his face. He was lucky none of the needles had penetrated his eyes. His eyelids fluttered open as he made a failed attempt to push us away.

"Tinman, hold still!" I instructed.

"Get lost," he murmured, arching his back to stretch himself awake.

"Hold still!" The Scarecrow growled as he lost his grip on the plant.

"Tinman, be careful!" I shouted; as his body jerked, I pricked a finger on a thorn. "Some of these are in you…"

I started to set to work on his shoulders when Tinman murmured, "I'd like to be in you…"

"What?" I couldn't have heard that right.

Tinman's eyes snapped open. "What?"

His cheeks tinged red, but I couldn't tell if that was because of the cold or embarrassment.

"Bella? Why don't you start on Leo?" Scarecrow suggested, putting a stop to the awkward. "This mess might take awhile."

I nodded and got to my feet.

I shuffled over to the enormous mound that could only be Leo's bulk and began uncovering him. He wasn't as covered by vines, so I set about removing the menace before waking him. As I peeled the last of the plant away from Leo, he let out a whimper. I looked at his face and realized how agonized he looked. Whatever he was dreaming about, it wasn't pretty.

"Leo?" I shook him.

His eyes snapped open and a fist landed in my stomach. I felt the air escape my lungs in a burning gust and the world became a blur of sparkling white landscape as I flew through the air.

"Bella!" Scarecrow screamed.

"Oh, shit!" yelled Leo as he became aware.

"What? What the fuck happened? I can't see!"

_Oh, my God, I can't breathe!_ I curled into the fetal position and waited for the air to return to my lungs. I'd never take Leo by surprise again. He might have a fair bit of cowardice but the bastard could hit.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, draping his fur coat over me. "I didn't mean to!"

I sucked in a gulp of cold air.

"S'okay…S'good… gonna puke…" I rolled over to my hands and knees and began to retch, but there wasn't anything in my stomach to expel.

"Nice job, Assclown!" The Tinman yelled; his voice sounded like it was moving now. "You broke 'er!"

"I didn't break her! I just knocked the wind loose. She'll be fine."

When the air had returned to my lungs and the world had stopped spinning, I clutched the heavy coat tighter to my body and stumbled upright. I took one look at Tinman and froze on the spot.

"What?" he snapped.

"You look like you fell face first into a beehive!" I gasped.

His face was red and lumpy.

He snorted. "Skin's just irritated a little. It'll go down."

Curious, I stuck my arm out of the coat and blinked in shock when I saw all the lesions on my arm.

Tinman, looking curious himself, bent over and pinched some snow between his fingertips. He sniffed it first and then stuck it on his tongue. Scarecrow was watching him with interest.

"Nice job, Bella," the Tinman said, spitting the melted snow to the ground.

"Nice job?" I repeated.

"It's not everyone who can get themselves involved in a witch war. The snow tastes of magic. Someone's looking out for you."

"The Good Witch of the North." The words surprised me because I said them without thinking, but now that I thought about it, it still sounded right. I looked down at the ruby slippers on my feet and, for the first time since they'd appeared there, I truly wondered: why me? Why had the Good Witch chosen me?

"We shouldn't linger." Leo turned and looked toward the Emerald City.

* * *

The closer we got to the city entrance, the faster Tinman and Leo walked. They were both eager to get inside the gates before anything else went wrong. I would have tried to keep up, but as we approached the city, I began to notice small, important details about the place that I hadn't noticed from across the field.

The most obvious detail was an enormous iron fence. The fence rose up about fifteen feet and each post had a knife-like looking head. The gate to the Emerald City looked like something from Medieval Times; it was a drop down gate whose bottom was just as dangerous as the fence's topside. I imagined whoever was under it when it fell would be very unlucky. On either side of the gate were soldiers who stared alertly ahead and did not move nor blink as we approached.

I looked at the tall fence with its algae slicked poles and imagined that scaling such a thing would be impossible. Even if you were lucky enough to make it to the top, one wrong move over those sharp studs would mean the end. The fence covered the entire perimeter of the city with the exception of drop gates, which armed soldiers were watching… The message seemed clear.

We could enter, but we weren't necessarily welcome.

Leo trudged past the soldiers without pausing to look at the gate above; I suppose he was used to this setting. Tinman did pause but it was to glare at a soldier. Scarecrow stiffened midway through the entrance and glared at Tinman.

"Tinman…" I began.

"What're you? Blind?" asked the Tinman.

The guard said nothing. He didn't even bother to acknowledge that someone was speaking.

"We nearly get eaten by plants and you just-"

"It's their job, Tinman," Scarecrow grabbed his arm and hauled him forward away from the guard. "They aren't allowed to leave unless commanded to do so."

"Useless, sons of-"

"I'd advise you to behave." Leo's voice was harsh as he cut off Tinman's curse. "You're in the Capital of Oz for Ozma's sake. With a name like Tinman, they're sure to be keeping a close eye on you. Security on this city is tight. Just because you can't see _them_, doesn't mean they can't see _you_."

I walked away from where Leo and Tinman were bickering and stared up at the skyscrapers; I'd been to a the city before but I couldn't say that we had anything back home as grand as this. The algae didn't really detract from the beauty in the end. Most of the buildings were a mixture of metal, glass and stonework, but even under all that moist green fuzz, I could make out the hand detailing in the stones. My eyes tracked the buildings upward until I could no longer see the carved detailing, then I just looked up, searching for the points where the structures ended, and the sky began.

I'd never felt so small.

As I stared upwards, someone bumped me.

"Watch it!" he barked out.

I jumped back in surprise as he hustled on by in an emerald business suit. I took a couple steps after him as he crossed a street and disappeared down another. I was still wondering where he was rushing off to, when I was forced to leap back onto the curb.

I heard the sound of hooves on cobblestone before I saw them; then they came around a corner, a couple of large ponies with golden pelts and bi-colored Mohawks running down the crest of their necks. The carriage harnesses were bright and shiny, the carriage itself was green and gold, but I couldn't make out any other details. The driver's face was reduced to a blur as these little horses flew over the cobbles as if the burden they were pulling did not exist. They disappeared around another corner as another horse and driver appeared.

This new carriage was drawn by a grey horse with a dappled hide and feet the size of dinner plates. He moved slowly, heading the opposite direction than the ponies, pulling a cart filled with produce. He may not have been galloping along like the ponies, but speed may have been a matter of opinion. His long legs covered the ground swiftly enough to get him where he was going. He passed by me, the driver glancing at me suspiciously as he passed. I peeked in bed of the cart surprised to see things as normal as carrots, cabbages, and apples, among fruits and vegetables that were less identifiable as they were colored in unusual neons.

I turned around and shrieked in surprise. Cullen had been standing behind me, but that wasn't what had startled me.

"What?" Cullen asked.

If Tinman looked like he'd fallen head first into beehive, Cullen looked like he'd fallen head first into a beehive after suffering from an allergic reaction at a peanut factory.

"What?" he asked again.

"Nothing," I lied. "Let's get going."

I walked back to where the three men were arguing.

"Hey!" I shouted silencing them all. "Leo, you're from around here. Where do we go to find the Wizard of Oz?"

He blinked at me. "Capitol Palace, of course."

Of course.

"Where is that?" I asked.

"Any cab will take you there but you won't gain an audience looking like that."

"Looking like what?" I asked.

"Like a crook."

* * *

**_Sorry about the wait, I hit a bit of a roadblock with the story, but no worries I knocked that bitch down with a sledgehammer._**

**_I suspect I will have lots of extras by the time I'm finished with "The Capital" (you may have noticed it said "Part 1")._**

**_On a side note, I'm working on an unrelated one-shot for Fandom4Children. I am not allowed to post said one-shot until June 1st, but if you donate, you can read it early (I'll post a link on my profile to the site)._**


End file.
